


A Study In Dean Winchester

by assbuttsinlove



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - High School, Bottom!Cas, First Kiss, First Time Sex, Fluff, Goth!Cas, Hand Jobs, M/M, Oral Sex, Teen Angst, description of past non-con, mentions of past non-con
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-22
Updated: 2015-04-11
Packaged: 2017-12-30 03:43:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 15
Words: 67,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1013676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/assbuttsinlove/pseuds/assbuttsinlove
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean Winchester is a bit of a nerd.  He likes pushing his glasses up on the bridge of his nose, and he likes wearing argyle sweaters.  He has a crush on his Spanish teacher, Mr. Peralta, and he's only been kissed, once, or so he says. One day, he meets Castiel Novak, the cigarette smoking, eyeliner wearing, pierced up hottie with the blue eyes who has a knack for sketching and bringing out the worst in others. They strike up an unlikely friendship, the both of them perhaps yearning for something more than what the other is giving. Junior year just got a whole lot more complicated than either of them had anticipated it to be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Mona Lisa

**Author's Note:**

> this started off as a one-shot on tumblr and evolved into something bigger and better. enjoy!

Dean finds it stuffed into his locker on Tuesday after Chemistry. 

He stands there for a few moments, his brows knitted together in confusion. It’s clearly a sketch of him, that much he can tell. The lines are faint and it looks as though it were hastily done, perhaps something the person threw together while pretending to pay attention to a conversation at a coffee shop, or maybe at the back of a classroom while the lights were dimmed, watching a documentary on the Civil War. Despite the fact that it is just a sketch, it’s a pretty good one. 

He glances around, wondering who the heck would draw this and slip it into his locker. He looks down at the sketch again. There’s a faint smile on his lips, and the person had even dotted in a few of his freckles. He grins, flattered despite the strangeness of it all and feels a bush creep into his cheeks. He wordlessly slips the drawing into his Spanish workbook, shuts his locker, and nearly jumps out of his skin when he realizes that someone is leaning up against the locker next to his. 

“Jesus Christ, man are you trying to give me a heart attack?” Dean snaps, placing his hand on his chest. 

The boy laughs and stretches his arms over his head. “My name isn’t Jesus Christ it’s Castiel,” he says with a yawn. He languidly turns around and begins to fiddle with the silver lock on the locker next to Dean’s. 

Dean watches him intently for a few moments as the boy’s finger skillfully twist and turn the knob until it yields to him with a soft click. 

“You can’t just break into people’s lockers,” Dean says folding his arms across his chest. 

Castiel doesn’t respond but simply shoots him a dark look. 

That’s when Dean gets his first good glimpse of his face and God, he’s beautiful. Castiel’s electric blue eyes are ringed with black eyeliner, and he has several piercings, a nose ring, a lip ring, and a small hoop perched delicately on his eyebrow. 

“It’s rude to stare,” Castiel says as he digs through the locker. He pulls out a text book and a sketchpad. 

“You’re that new kid, aren’t you?” Dean asks leaning up against his own locker. 

Castiel snorts. “Observant, aren’t you?” he mimics. 

“No need to be a dick,” Dean says. 

This catches Castiel off guard and he turns to face Dean, a small smile brimming on his pretty lips. “Such language. I wouldn’t have expected it from someone like you,” he says. 

“And what kind of person am I?” Dean asks in an irritated voice as he pushes his glasses up on the bridge of his nose. 

Castiel gives him a full body look, from the top of his head down to his shoes, and then back up to his argyle sweater. Castiel grins revealing a set of pearly white teeth. “I’m not even gonna answer that question,” he says. He slams his locker shut causing Dean to jump. Castiel chuckles as he clicks his lock into place and he walks away from Dean. 

Dean stands there, fuming, unsure of what to even think or feel about Castiel. 

Castiel stops and turns his head. There’s a small smile on his face. “You’re gonna be late for Spanish, I know how you love rolling those R’s for Mr. Peralta,” he teases.

Dean’s entire face turns red and he reluctantly begins to follow Castiel towards their Spanish classroom. 

When they finally arrive at the classroom, Castiel stops and motions Dean toward the door. “After you,” he says. 

Dean rolls his eyes and walks into the room. He makes a beeline for his favorite seat, the one right next to the window where he cracks it open, appreciating the cool, autumn breeze that blows in. He doesn’t even look around for Castiel, deciding that the best thing to do would be to just ignore him. He opens his Spanish workbook and begins to go over his homework assignment, getting lost in conjugating verbs while the classroom fills up. He manages to forget about Castiel for a while, or at least put him on the back burner while he concentrates on taking down notes and dreaming about what it would feel like to kiss Mr. Peralta. It’s only when the bell rings shrilly and he begins to put his things away he realizes that Castiel is nowhere to be found. “Weirdo…” he mutters to himself as he shoves his book into his backpack and exits the room. 

Despite his earlier annoyance, he finds himself searching for Castiel, his eyes, unknowingly roaming the halls, peeking into classrooms, looking for those too blue eyes and that little playful smirk on his lips, his mouth, poised, hovering, ready to strike at all times with some witty comeback, with something vicious, or cruel. 

Dean stops himself when he realizes what he’s doing. He glances at his wristwatch. He’s already ten minutes late for his Philosophy class and he wonders if he should just skip it and head to the library for a while. He feels a little off today, and he just wants to blame Castiel, the weirdo, for everything. That’s when he realizes that the door to the art studio is cracked open slightly when he steps in a line of sunlight spilling onto the floor. Thinking perhaps Mr. Casey is in, he pushes the door open and is greeted by the sight of Castiel, perched on top of a table, headphones on, sketchbook in his lap. He’s bent over the pad, sketching something with deft strokes and it’s clear that he hasn’t realized that he’s been discovered. Dean watches him for a few breaths. He seems softer here in the quiet classroom, as the sunlight filters around him, lighting up his dark hair and his skin. He wonders if he should leave, as quietly as he came in but Castiel looks up, almost as though he could feel Dean’s eyes on him and he jumps. 

He pulls off his head phones, somewhat angrily and he glowers at Dean. “The hell are you doing?” he snaps as he unfurls his legs and swings them over the edge of the table. “You following me?” Castiel asks as he walks towards Dean. 

“No, I just…I was looking for Mr. Casey,” he mumbles. He pushes his glasses up on the bridge of his nose again, nervously and backs into the wall as Castiel advances on him. He feels the hard surface of the wall against his back and watches as Castiel leans closer and closer to him. He squints at Dean, frowns and then grins. 

“Hmm, now I see,” he says quietly before walking back over to the table. 

Dean watches him as he climbs back up, folds his legs and grabs his sketchpad once more. 

“Now you see what?” Dean asks. 

Castiel looks up at him and smiles. “I didn’t draw enough freckles last time,” he says simply as he leans over his sketch pad once more. He plucks his pencil out from behind his ear and gets back to work.

Dean stares at him, his mouth dry, heart thumping wildly in his chest. He feels the faint blush creeping back into his cheeks and he swallows thickly. 

“Are you just going to stand there?” Castiel asks without looking up. 

Dean blushes but takes a firm step towards the table. 

“Get up here, will you, I’m trying to get your ears,” Castiel orders. 

Dean climbs up on the desk and sits next to him. 

Castiel looks over at him and smiles. “Hey there Mona Lisa,” he teases.

Dean rolls his eyes. “Shut up,” he says softly. 

“You’re cute,” Castiel says. 

Dean blushes again and pulls out a comic from his book bag. As he reads about Batman and the Joker, he can’t help but feel a secret thrill of excitement run through him. He’s never been one to cut class, but he’s sure as hell glad that he did it today. He glances over at Castiel’s sketchpad but he hunches over it and covers his drawing with his hand. “No peeking,” he says. 

Dean laughs, and turns back to his comic. For once, he’s content to wait.


	2. Affichiste

“Did that hurt?” Dean asks.

Castiel looks up from his textbook and squints. “What?” he asks.

“Your nose ring. Did it hurt?” Dean asks as he unconsciously fingers his own nose.

Castiel smirks at him and slams his textbook shut. Dean jumps and then rolls his eyes.

“No need to be so dramatic,” he grouses at the boy sitting across from him.

“No need to be such a wuss, Mona Lisa,” Cas teases with a knowing smile. “Did you invite me over so we can study for this test? Or are you just going to stare at me for the next three hours?” Cas asks.

Dean sighs loudly. Sometimes, he feels like it’s one step forward and then six steps back with Castiel. After they had spent that afternoon tucked away in Mr. Casey’s office, (Dean reading comics and sweating nervously, while Cas sketched him), they had arrived at a strange sort of truce, a friendship, even. Sometimes, they would take their lunch outside and sit on the grass and eat, away from prying eyes. This usually happened whenever Cas was in a good mood, and he and Dean would talk and laugh and things would be okay. But then there were days when Cas was as sour as a rotting banana, fruit flies and all, and he would walk around with a dark cloud hovering over him. On those days, Dean learned early on to steer clear of him, unable to deal with the snarky comments that seemed to materialize out of thin air.

Cas had taken it upon himself to give Dean a new nick name every week, it seemed. First it had been Mona Lisa, (which he seemed to favor over all the others), then there had been freckles, (his second favorite), then green eyes, and then finally, (Dean’s least favorite) Butt Man, (because according to Cas, he had a nice ass, which Dean thought was a weird thing to say to a friend, but he brushed it off because, well, it was Cas).

Cas chuckles and shrugs. “It didn’t hurt much. It’s like a…dull sort of pressure and then it’s over before you even realize it,” he says.

Dean smiles and moves a little closer to him. “What about the eyebrow?” he asks.

Cas smiles and plays with his lip ring for a moment. “It hurt the least out of the three of them. My lip stung for a bit but then it was over. I had my tongue pierced too, couldn’t eat for a while, and then it got infected somehow so I just took it out…” he says.

Dean observes him for a moment. “Why do you need them?” he asks.

Castiel’s expression darkens. “What do you mean?” he asks.

“I mean…all the piercings and the eyeliner…what’s it all for? For you…personally,” Dean asks.

Cas frowns and shakes his head. He stretches his arms out and lies down on the floor. He beckons for Dean to lie down next to him and Dean quickly scrambles to do so. Soon, they’re both on the ground, shoulders touching, staring up at Dean’s ceiling and the weird brown spot in the corner.

“How come you don’t have any piercings?” Cas asks.

“My dad would probably kill me,” Dean says with a pained laugh.

“And what would he say if he knew you were up here with a boy?” Cas asks, turning to face him.

Dean shrugs. “He’s not even here, doesn’t matter,” he mumbles as he pushes his glasses up on the bridge of his nose.

“Where is he?” Cas asks.

“Iraq,” Dean says simply. The word hovers over the both of them, and fills the room. It’s a heavy weight that presses against their chests, and Dean’s heart aches as he wonders for the millionth time if his dad is even alive.

“That must be weird,” Cas says eventually.

Dean shrugs. They both remain quiet and allow the silence to wash over them.

“I got the lip piercing after I got into this huge fight with my mom,” Castiel says, breaking the silence. “She says I remind her too much of my dad. It was ugly, I was…in a bad place and I just…wanted to do something rebellious I guess,” he says.

“Do you fight with your mom a lot?” Dean asks.

Cas chuckles dryly. “All the fucking time,” Cas says.

Dean’s heart suddenly aches for Castiel. He can hear the bitterness, and the disappointment in the boy’s voice as he talks about his mother. He wonders how Castiel felt when he came in and Mary had fawned over them both, how he had felt when Mary had forced them to sit at the kitchen table while she gave them thick slices of pie with a glass of milk each and made sure they ate it all. He wonders how Cas must have felt when Mary had pressed a kiss to Dean’s temple before heading out to the supermarket, how he felt when she had shouted I love you! As she ran out of the house. Dean swallows thickly against a lump in his throat and he chews on his bottom lip.

“I like them,” Dean says, eventually, in a shaky voice.

Cas turns his head to look at Dean and notices a blush creeping into the boy’s cheeks. “Like what?” he asks.

“Your piercings. I think they’re cool. They’re…different,” he says. “You’re different.”

And just like that, just as Dean turns his head Cas is leaning closer to him and their lips meet. Dean’s heart flutters wildly in his chest and he feels butterflies tickle the insides of his stomach. Cas’ lips are soft and his breath is warm and he tastes like double mint gum and cigarettes. Dean smiles into the kiss and his ears burn when Cas reaches out to curl his fingers in Dean’s hair. Dean has only ever kissed a couple other people, his most recent being his best friend, Cassie.  It had been on a sleepover when they had played spin the bottle and it was chaste, and soft and sweet, but this, this thing that was happening with Castiel right now was a completely different animal. He was feeling things, weird things. He felt like someone was flipping pancakes in his stomach, and his face was so hot, he thought he was going to explode.

When the kiss finally ends, Castiel pulls back and they both stare at each other quietly. The only sound in the room comes from Dean’s laptop, which had been playing music softly in the corner, a Coldplay playlist that he usually listened to while he studied. Cas had made fun of him, of course, but had made no moves to change it even after Dean had offered. Now, one of Dean’s favorite songs was on, (Sparks), and he was lying on the floor, heart racing. He could taste the lingering flavor of cigarettes and gum in his mouth from Castiel’s mouth and he knows he’s blushing.

Cas reaches over and gently grabs onto Dean’s hand. They thread their fingers together but they both remain silent, content to simply listen to the music and lie there.

“You taste like pie,” Cas says with a smile.

“You taste like cigarettes and double mint,” Dean says with a grin.

Cas rolls his eyes. “Significantly less romantic than pie, freckles,” he says.

“I don’t mind,” Dean says with another blush.

“I guess I’ll have to start smoking cloves again. They taste much better than menthols,” Cas says as he leans on his side to stare into Dean’s eyes.

“How do those taste?” Dean asks, turning on his side as well.

Cas grins. “I guess you’ll just have to wait and see,” he whispers.

Dean smiles. “What is this, Cas?” he asks.

Castiel shrugs. “What do you want it to be?” he asks.

The question hangs in the air between the two of them. Dean looks into Cas’ electric blue eyes ringed with dark eyeliner and he smiles. “I don’t know, but I want to kiss you again,” he says boldly.

Cas laughs and leans forward. “Well then, I can definitely help you with that, although…” his voice trails off. He reaches over and gently removes Dean’s glasses and Dean turns a brilliant shade of red. “There, that’s much better,” Cas rumbles as he leans forward for another kiss.

Dean smiles.


	3. Charcoal

“Charcoal is messy, why do you like it so much?” Dean asks, breaking the silence.  

Castiel glances over at him for a moment but does not respond.  Instead, he turns back to his easel and continues to sketch. 

It had been a week since they had locked lips in Dean’s room, and Dean hadn’t seen Castiel since.  The boy had been a fleeting shadow in the hallways, he had barely shown up to any of the classes they had together, and he didn’t even bother to respond to any of Dean’s calls or text messages. 

Eventually, Dean got bored with chasing after Cas.  He chose to focus, instead, on his work, and the ridiculous amount of it that had seemingly appeared out of nowhere.  He immersed himself in readings and papers and hung out with Cassie but still, his mind ran on Cas more often than not.  He found himself day dreaming about Cas’ lips pressed up against his own and how he would very much like for it to happen again.  He recalled the pleasant tingling in his scalp when Cas had carded his fingers through his hair, a surprisingly affectionate gesture.  But the more he thought about it, the more angry he became that Cas had dropped him like a hot potato. 

So he channeled his anger into his work, and stopped himself from thinking about Cas at all. 

That was until Cas called him on Friday night and asked him if he wanted to come over.

And of course, Dean had said yes, though, perhaps a little too quickly for his own liking.

Now he was here, in Cas’ room for the first time, feeling strangely disconnected from him.  He digs his nails into his palms as he looks around the room.  The walls are painted light blue and are covered in countless drawings and sketches.  Some of them were actual prints and posters of famous pieces of art.  Those were hung a little higher, just out of reach.  He found himself staring at one piece in particular, a large red rose painted over a beautiful blue backdrop.  On one of the lush petals, he spied what seemed to be a raindrop, or perhaps it was a tear. 

“That’s Dali’s Meditative Rose,” Cas murmurs from behind his canvas. 

Dean blinks and pushes his glasses up on the bridge of his nose.  “It’s pretty,” he says.

Cas nods.  “It’s one of my favorites,” he says simply. 

Dean squints at the painting and then he turns back to Cas.  “When are you gonna talk to me, Cas?” he asks finally. 

Cas’ hand stops moving but he keeps his gaze lowered.  “You want me to kiss you again, Dean?” he asks stonily.

Dean balls his hand up into a fist and shakes his head.  “Is that what you think this is about?” he asks.

“That’s why you’re here, isn’t it?” Cas asks as he makes several quick strokes on his sketch pad. 

Dean frowns.  “What the hell are you talking about?” he asks. 

Cas scoffs.  “You know I thought you were different.  But you’re just like everyone else,  _fake_.” he says, not bothering to hide the bitterness in his voice.

The word fake sends a nail through Dean’s heart.  He clutches onto Cas’ sheets with his fingers, holding onto it tightly for fear of flying away. 

“Cas, you’re crazy.  I don’t know what you  _think_  you heard, but whatever it was, it’s  _not_  true,” Dean says angrily. 

Cas stops sketching and looks up at Dean, his blue eyes flashing with anger.  “What about Alastair?  All the shit I heard about him…and  _you_ ,” Cas snarls. 

Dean blinks and stands up and his blood runs cold at the mention of the senior’s name.  “What did he say to you?” he asks in a quiet voice.

Cas smirks.  “You should know,” he says. 

Dean’s eyes burn with tears and he looks down.  “Alastair is a freak.  He’s been…he’s been a thorn in my side for years, but I never…nothing ever happened between me and him.  Nothing that I  _wanted_  to happen anyway,” he says softly. 

Cas resumes his sketching but he avoids Dean’s piercing gaze. 

Dean sucks in a breath and looks down at his shoes.  He’s never told anyone about what had happened between him and Alastair.  This was the closest he had ever come to even bringing it up.  Just thinking about it brings a lump to his throat and he swallows thickly against it.  

“I’m a fuck up, Dean.  I’m sorry for calling you here,” Cas says, not looking up at him. 

Dean has to remind himself to breathe and he blinks against tears forming in his eyes. 

“You should…you should leave.  I can’t do this,” Cas mumbles. 

“Do  _what_ , Cas?” Dean asks in a hollow voice.

Cas stops sketching and piece of charcoal drops from his fingers.  It clatters to the floor. 

Dean watches him as he grabs a pack of cigarettes from his desk.  He picks up his jacket and slides it onto his arms.  He stops in the doorway and looks at Dean mournfully for a moment. 

“You should go,” Cas says again before walking out, leaving Dean alone in his room. 

Dean gets up, shocked, and goes over to the easel.  He observes the sketch for a few moments before tearing it off and ripping it in half. 

The pieces of paper flutter to the ground and his own face stares back at him. 

* * *

Outside, Castiel draws his jacket closer to his body and walks quickly away from his house, away from Dean.  He knows he shouldn’t have just  _left_  him in there, but…he just couldn’t bear it any longer.  He couldn’t deal with the way Dean was looking at him, with the  _hurt_  reflecting in his stupid green eyes.  He could kick himself, and tears sting at his own eyes as he fumbles with his box of cigarettes.  How could he be so stupid to even  _listen_  to that scum bag, Alastair?  He thinks about Dean, about how white his face had turned when he had brought up Alastair’s name.  He taps a cigarette out of the box and perches it between his lips, his hands shaking.  He pats down on his pockets for his lighter and he curses when he realizes that he left it in his room.  He turns around to go back and stops when he realizes that Dean is several feet away, slowly trudging towards him, hands tucked in his pockets to fight against the chill. 

He leaves the cigarette hanging in between his lips and waits for Dean to walk past him, but he doesn’t.  He stops in front of Cas, a steely glint in his eye and Cas knows that he’s lost Dean already, perhaps for good. 

Dean pulls his hand out of his pocket and thrusts something at his chest.  It’s a book of matches. “You forgot this,” he says bluntly. 

Cas reaches out and takes the matches with a trembling hand. He pulls out a match and fumbles with it for a few moments before angrily tossing it to the floor and pulling out another one. 

Dean watches him as he tries to light it, but fails. 

His hands are shaking and he knows he’ll never be able to strike a flame.  “You couldn’t bring my lighter?” Cas snaps at him, more angry at himself for not being able to do something as simple as lighting a match.    

“You’re doing it wrong,” Dean snaps back at him before rolling his eyes and snatching the booklet from Cas fingers.  He pulls out a match, flips the thin cardboard back and lights it in one strike. 

Cas blinks and reluctantly leans forward toward the flame.  He inhales and the cigarette glows in the darkness surrounding them. 

Dean drops the match on the floor and starts walking again, leaving Cas alone beneath a flickering street light.

Cas watches him for a moment before following him.  “Dean!” he calls out. 

Dean doesn’t stop walking.  He bows his head and shoves his hands deeper into his pockets instead and quickens his pace. 

“Dean, wait!” Cas cries as he changes his walk to a trot to catch up to him.  He takes a long pull on his cigarette, appreciating the rush of nicotine hitting his system, grounding him. 

“What do you want?” Dean asks as Cas falls into step next to him. 

Cas reaches out and places a hand on Dean’s arm.  “Will you stop?” he asks.

Dean angrily wrenches away from him and continues to push forward.  “No,” he says. 

“I’m sorry, okay?” Cas says.

Dean stops and rounds on him.  “That’s it? You’re sorry? You just called me a liar.  You kicked me out of your  _house_ …” Dean says angrily. 

“Dean, this is hard for me too,” Cas says as he blows a thin stream of smoke through his lips. 

Dean eyes the cigarette and shakes his head.  “I get that.  I get that it’s… _so_  hard for you, and I’m sorry.  But I’ve got enough on my plate right now as it is, and I don’t think I have room for this…” he says looking down. 

“Look I know what I said was fucked up, okay?  Just…tell me what happened with you and Alastair,” Cas pleads.    

Dean shakes his head and scrubs the ground with the tip of his shoe.  When he finally looks up Cas can see that Dean’s eyes are filled with tears and he knows that if he blinks, they’ll come tumbling down his face. “You’re a complication, Cas, I’ve got too much stuff going on…”

“Stuff?  What  _stuff_?” Cas huffs at him, attempting to inject some humor into the scene. 

Dean doesn’t take the bait and he finally blinks.  Several fat tears roll down his cheeks.  He removes his glasses and quickly wipes them away with the back of his hand.  “I gotta go.  It’s late, and I have to walk home,” Dean says as he puts his glasses back on his face. 

“Dean I’m sorry,” Cas echoes.

Dean stares at him sadly.  “I know,” he says quietly before turning around and walking away. 

Cas calls out to him a few more times, but Dean doesn’t turn around.  He can hear him sniffling as he walks away and Cas lifts his cigarette to his mouth once more. 

His hands are still shaking.  


	4. Chiaroscuro

His hands are stained. 

There are greens and blues on his fingertips and blot of something dark on the back of his hand.  He holds his paintbrush between his index and his middle finger like a cigarette and something claws at him from the inside.  Green eyes stare back at him, unblinking, from his canvas and he knows what it is. 

His hand shakes as he lifts his brush once more and he hovers over the canvas, over Dean’s eyes.  For a moment, he is tempted to paint them over with thick, black paint, blot them out forever so he doesn’t have to see them again but he knows that it won’t work.  Instead, he presses the brush against the darkness around Dean’s head and begins to spread another layer of inky, black paint.  It contrasts nicely with the lightness of Dean’s face, beautifully illuminated by the flame of a match, held between his fingers. 

There’s something hidden within the depths of Dean’s eyes in the painting that Cas just can’t put his finger on.  It’s haunting, and makes the hairs on the back of his neck prickle uncomfortably but he keeps on spreading the black paint generously onto the canvas wanting it to be as dark as possible.

“Woah, that’s pretty dark, baby bro.”

Castiel freezes and his hand stops moving across the canvas.  In his chest, his heart thumps wildly against his ribcage, a thunderstorm battering against his bones.  A thousand ugly thoughts race through his mind, old feelings that he had done his best to push away suddenly bubble to the surface.  There’s a bitter taste lingering in his mouth, cloying on his tongue and he wishes he could be anywhere but here.  “Haven’t you ever heard of  _knocking_ , asshole?” he quips. 

His brother crosses the threshold and steps into his room.  “Well aren’t you just a ray of sunshine,” he says with a snort.  He walks past Castiel and pauses momentarily to flick his eyes across the painting before plopping down on his brother’s bed.  He places his hands behind his head and crosses his legs, settling comfortably on the soft mattress.  “Who’s the cutie?” he asks in that irritatingly cheerful voice of his.

Castiel rolls his eyes and turns back to his canvas.  “Nobody,” he says quickly.  “What do you want, Gabe?” he asks, not bothering to hide the edge in his voice. 

“Oh, I just came by to say hi,” he says. 

“You flew all this way just to say hi? I thought you were busy,” Cas says delicately.  The words hang heavily in the room like thick drapes, blocking out the sun.  Gabriel doesn’t respond and he averts his gaze from his brother’s piercing stare. 

“I just…I wanted to make sure you were okay, Cas,” Gabriel says softly. 

Cas snorts.  “You could have called,” he says.  He puts down his paintbrush and steps back to observe his work.  There’s still something off about it, something that doesn’t quite sit right with him but he can’t put his finger on what it is.  “Did  _she_  send you?” he asks eventually as he moves away from Dean’s accusatory stare. 

Gabriel scoffs at him.  “Of course not,” he says.  Cas puts his palette down on his desk and absently dips his index finger in a smudge of green paint.    “How are things with you and dad?” Gabriel asks. Castiel shrugs and wipes the paint off on his jeans, not caring about the stain it leaves behind. 

“As good as they’ll ever be,” he says dryly.  He picks up his pack of cigarettes and turns around.  “Want one?” he asks halfheartedly.  Gabriel fumes at him and swings his legs off the side of the bed. 

“Cas, you shouldn’t be smoking,” Gabriel says, no real conviction behind his voice.

“Yeah and you shouldn’t fucking be here,” he snaps.  Gabriel crosses the room in a few steps and snatches the pack out of Cas’ hands before he even gets a chance to slip one out of the box. 

“Mom is worried about you,” Gabriel says.

Castiel laughs triumphantly.  “I  _knew_  it.  I knew you wouldn’t come here on your own,” he says as he shakes his head. 

Gabriel throws his hands up in the air and sighs loudly.  “I didn’t come here because she sent me you idiot.   _She_  calls  _me_.  _All_  the fucking time I might add since you never pick up any of her calls,” he says. Castiel huffs at him and shoves his hands into his pockets. 

“I don’t want to talk to her,” he says.

“She’s your  _mother_ ,” Gabriel says.

“Since when did that mean anything to her?” Castiel snaps back angrily.  Gabriel opens his mouth to say something but he quickly shuts it, choosing to swallow his words down instead.  Castiel moves away from him and walks over to his mirror where he looks at his reflection and pokes at his lip ring with his tongue. 

“She still loves you, despite what you might think,” Gabriel says. Castiel ignores him and hums lightly, wondering if he should get another piercing.  He could use the brief, stinging pain, something to temporarily make him forget the emptiness he had been walking around with in his chest for the past few days.  “Cas?” Gabriel says softly.

Castiel turns around and faces his brother.  When he finally meets his gaze, he’s made painfully aware again of just how  _different_  they are, but he sees something hovering in Gabriel’s eyes,  _concern_ , and he notices the way Gabriel’s brow is knitted together,  _worried_ , about  _him,_  and suddenly he feels like shit.  He’s tired of pushing everyone away.  He’s spent so many years building up walls, and he thinks of how no one has ever attempted to see what was on the other side.  Well, no one except for Dean, who had somehow managed to blush and huff his way beneath Castiel’s very skin.  His knees feel weak, and he sinks to the ground, his back pressed up against his wooden dresser.  He buries his face in his hands and he only knows Gabriel is next to him when he feels his brother’s arm curl around his shoulder protectively, pulling him into a half-hug.  And as much as he hates it, as much as he wants to make some kind of quip, some kind of joke about how corny this entire moment is, he doesn’t.  “You want to tell me what happened with that guy?” Gabriel asks gently. Castiel turns to him and his eyes are filled with tears. 

“Why didn’t you let me live with you, Gabe?” he asks, his voice sounding small.  Gabriel does not answer immediately, rather he pauses, choosing his next few words carefully. 

“I wanted to…I just…there’s a lot going on in my life, baby bro, and you’re still in high school…I just thought it would be better if you stayed with dad for a while, I wouldn’t have been able to take care of you,” Gabriel explains. Cas sniffs and wipes his nose with the back of his hand.  “Do you like it here at all?  I mean have you made any friends?” Gabriel asks. Castiel rolls his eyes.

“Friends?” he huffs with a laugh.  “More like friend,” he says.

And then it hits him, he doesn’t even  _have_  a friend anymore.  He had ruined it, ruined whatever had been growing between him and Dean when he had kicked him out so unceremoniously, without a second thought for anyone else’s feelings but his own.  He feels icy fingers constrict themselves around his lungs and for a moment, it’s hard to breathe.  “I fucked up, Gabe,” he says quietly.  Gabriel rubs a soothing hand on his back. 

“We all do.  It’s in our nature to fuck shit up when things are going good.  The important thing is recognizing  _when_  you fuck up, and knowing that it’s okay to apologize, to say you’re sorry.  Which…” his voice trails off and he looks over at Castiel.  “Which is what mom should do,” he says softly.  Castiel’s eyes fill with a fresh batch of tears. 

“What?” he asks, his voice wavering. 

“She should apologize to you, Cas, for all of the shit she’s been putting you through all these years, all of the hoops she’s made you jump through, for every horrible thing she’s said to you, you never deserved it, you were a kid, you still are, and…me and Anna, we fucked up too, we shouldn’t have left you there with her knowing how…bitter and crazy she was,  _is_ ,” he says. 

Cas waves him away.  “You guys had your own lives,” he says, looking away.

“That’s still no excuse.  I’m sorry, Cas, I really am,” Gabriel says. 

Silence settles over them and they both mull over what had just been said.  Cas, thinks about the fact that Gabriel has finally come out and said something positive to him in relation to their mother, as opposed to joking around about it or shoving it under the rug like he usually did.  He thinks about Dean, and about how he should have made a bigger effort to reach out to him, to apologize, after what had happened between them.  “I had a friend,” he says slowly. Gabriel looks over at him. 

“What happened?” he asks.  Castiel hangs his head and sighs deeply.  He launches into the story, telling his brother how him and Dean met, how they had started hanging out together, eating lunch and sitting on the quad, how they had gone to the movies (he doesn’t tell them about how their hands had touched), but he  _does_  tell him about the kiss, about how Dean tasted like pie and how he had a shit load of freckles and about his glasses and that’s when he realizes what was missing in his painting.  He stops talking and laughs. 

“What is it?” Gabriel asks. Castiel shakes his head and looks over at the canvas. 

“Nothing I just…realized what was missing in my painting,” he murmurs.  Gabriel punches him lightly on the shoulder. 

“You know what you’ve gotta do now, right?” Gabriel asks with a grin.  Cas rolls his eyes and turns to his brother. 

“What?” he asks.

“You’ve gotta do what any self respecting Novak would  _never_  do.”

“Which is?”

“Humble yourself, apologize, and hope to God he forgives you,” Gabriel says with a bitter chuckle.  Cas lets these words wash over him and before he knows it, he’s laughing.  It bubbles from his very core, spills out of his lips and he doubles over, holding onto his stomach.  It’s the first real laugh that he’s experienced in a long time, and his brother looks at him curiously for a moment before joining in.  Castiel wipes his eyes, smudging his eyeliner on the back of his hand and presses the heels of his palms against his face.  “I should go,” he says quickly. Gabe reaches out and grabs onto his arm.

“Woah, woah, woah, hold on lover boy.  Uh-uh, not yet,” he says. Castiel frowns at him.  “I came all this way to see you, and I’m not leaving until you take me to the nearest diner. I’m starving and I could eat about twenty pancakes right now,” he says. Castiel rolls his eyes but he laughs. 

“You can  _always_  eat twenty pancakes, you blob,” he grumbles as he gets up.  He helps Gabe pull himself to a standing position and watches as his brother waltzes out of his room. 

“Meet me downstairs!” he shouts in a singsong voice. 

“Yeah, I’ll be there in five, let me get dressed!” Cas shouts back.  He quickly pulls off his jeans, strips off his top and walks around in his underwear for a moment as he searches for something clean to wear.  He pauses in front of his painting once more, observing the way the flame bounces off Dean’s freckled face, how it shines in his eyes.  He wants to reach out and touch it, but he’s scared he’ll ruin it so he doesn’t. 

A blush steals through his cheeks when he thinks about seeing Dean again.  He feels kind of dumb about how excited he is, about the little butterflies teasing at the inside of his stomach at the thought of seeing Dean’s smile or the way he pushed his glasses up on the bridge of his nose.  For the first time in a long time, he’s glad to get out of the house.  He’s going to have dinner with his brother, who would have thought, and then, as soon as that’s done, he’s heading straight to Dean’s place.  He feels a strange tingling in his palms and he balls his hands into fists to chase it away.    

Outside, thunder rolls ominously in the distance but he shrugs it off as he finds a clean shirt and a somewhat clean pair of jeans.  He stops in front of his mirror and applies a fresh coat of eyeliner and grabs his things, stuffing them into his pockets haphazardly.  He automatically pats his back pocket for his cigarettes when he remembers that Gabriel had tossed them onto the bed.  He turns around for a moment, staring at the pack of Newport’s sitting on his pillow.  A small part of him wants them, but a bigger part of him doesn’t want the extra weight.  He walks out of the room, leaving the cigarettes behind him.

Dean doesn’t like the smell anyway. 


	5. Negative Space

_“You’ll like it, I promise.”_

Dean’s eyes pop open mere moments before his alarm goes off.  Tendrils of his lost dream clutch at him, and a faint voice is ringing in his ears.  The last two words dance around in his head and pull at him, they dig into his skin, and it hurts to breathe.  _I promise._

His room is still fairly dark, and outside, the sun is still rising.  He shifts on his bed, tosses off his blanket and scrubs a hand across his face.  Just as his bare feet touch the cold floor, the alarm pierces the stillness of the room and he cringes.  The alarm is shrill and irritating but he’s unable to will himself to move.  His legs feel like lead, and he stares down at his freckled fingers, splayed out on his thighs.  _You’ll like it.  I promise._ He clenches his fist, fingernails digging into his palm.  A floor board creaks and when he looks up, he realizes that Sam has just padded into his room, rubbing his eyes tiredly.  He watches as his baby brother walks over to his desk and shuts off the alarm on Dean’s phone. 

“What are you doing up?” Dean asks as he stifles a yawn. 

Sam rolls his eyes and leans back against the edge of Dean’s desk. 

“I’m up because your _stupid_ alarm woke me up, that’s why,” Sam snaps angrily. 

Dean sighs and makes a face at his brother.  “Get outta here, chipmunk,” he teases before he rolls back onto his bed.  He slides under his covers once more and closes his eyes and waits with baited breath for his brother to leave the room. 

But Sam, being Sam, doesn’t leave.  Instead, he folds his arms across his chest and waits for Dean to turn around. 

“I’m gonna throw something at you if you don’t leave, Sammy,” Dean grouses.

“Well that would require you to actually get your lazy ass out of bed,” Sam quips. 

Dean bristles.  It’s always disconcerting to hear Sam curse, but he shrugs it off and turns around.  “You _know_ how mom feels about you cursing,” he says tiredly. 

“Well I don’t see her here right now, do you?” Sam asks. 

Dean grunts at him and pulls his covers around him tighter.  “I’m tired, Sam, go away,” Dean mumbles. 

“Dean, come on, stop being such a sourpuss and talk to me,” he pleads.  He walks over to Dean’s bed and perches on the edge.  “I _know_ something’s wrong, I’m not stupid,” Sam says.

Dean rolls his eyes and turns over on his side.  He stares blankly at the wall, wishing that Sam would just leave.  His heart thumps heavily in his chest and he feels cold and numb all over.  His dream echoes in his mind and suddenly he feels uncomfortable in his own skin. 

“Is it about Cas?” Sam asks tentatively.

Dean stiffens beneath his covers.  “No,” he says quickly, _too quickly._

“Look you haven’t been the same since that night you left to go see him, so I know something happened.  Are you gonna tell me what it is?” Sam asks.

Dean strongly considers telling Sam about everything, about him and Cas becoming friends, and then a little more than friends.  He wants to tell Sam about the fight, about the hurtful things Cas had said to him, about the stabbing pain he felt in his heart with each weary breath he drew into his lungs.  But doing that meant that he would be opening up to Sam, that he would be unloading his own problems and issues on Sam’s little shoulders, and he didn’t deserve that, so he decides to shut down and clam up as he usually did.  As much as it hurt him to do so, he knew it would be for the best in the long run. 

“I really appreciate it, Sam but…don’t worry about me.  It’s my job to worry about you, I’m the big brother here,” Dean says. 

Sam sighs loudly.  “Sometimes I really want to punch you in your stupid face,” he grumbles. 

“As if you don’t do it enough?” Dean jokes.  Silence falls between the two of them and neither of them know how to break it. 

“Dean…look I know you feel weird about telling me stuff…but you’re not my dad, you’re my brother, and I need you to know that. I need you to know that you can talk to me about stuff, and not just…you know…be my dad,” Sam says sagely. 

Dean rolls around and looks at his brother.  “Are you a 78 year old man wrapped up in a 13 year-old’s body?” he asks with a chuckle. 

Sam grins at him.  “I’m a riddle, wrapped inside of an enigma, wrapped inside of a taco,” he says. 

Dean rolls his eyes and sighs.  He looks at his baby brother and he can almost feel the concern roiling off of his body in waves.  He sits up and looks down at his hands, entwining his fingers together.  “My friend and I had a fight,” he says eventually. 

“Okay, what happened?” Sam asks.

Dean glances at his brother for a moment and then he looks back down at his hands.  “We…had a disagreement on something…he heard….someone told him something about me that was a lie and he…believed them.  And we just…you know…it was weird,” Dean says. 

“Have you talked to him about it since?” Sam asks. 

Dean runs a hand through his hair and shakes his head.  “Nah, I don’t think it’s worth it,” he says. 

“You’ve been moping around like a love-sick puppy ever since, don’t tell me it’s not worth it,” Sam snaps.  He reaches out and backhands Dean’s leg through the covers. 

“Ouch!” Dean says angrily.  “The hell was that about?”

“You needed that! To snap you out of this stupid funk!” Sam says.  “Look, you’re already deserting me this weekend, something which I do _not_ forgive you for, by the way,” Sam says giving him a dirty look.

“Hey man, I have a lot of work to do…” Dean says lamely.  “Plus, I thought you _liked_ hanging out at Grandpa Campbell’s house anyway!”

“Yeah, as much as I love going to the dentist,” Sam gripes.  “Can you promise me something?” Sam asks.

Dean looks up at him.  “What?”

“Promise me you’ll call your friend?  I know you like him, a lot.”

“ _Sammy,_ ” Dean says in a warning tone.

“Dean, _please_.  I know, okay?  And guess what?  I don’t care.  Okay?  You can like whoever you want, just as long as you’re happy.  I don’t care what anyone thinks, especially not dad, you know why?” Sam asks.

“Why?” Dean asks as he picks at an imaginary spot on his blanket.

“Because he’s not here.  And you are,” Sam says. 

Dean looks up at his brother and sees that Sam is smiling at him.  “You’re the weirdest 13 year old I’ve ever met, you know that?” he asks.

“Shut up, monkey face.  So will you do it?” Sam asks.

“No.”

“ _Dean_.  Don’t be an asshole,” Sam snaps.

“ _Samuel Winchester_ , I am appalled,” Mary says from the doorway. 

Dean and Sam turn their heads almost in slow motion only to see their mother standing in the doorway, her arms folded across her chest. 

“I ought to box your ears,” she says heatedly.

Sam grins sheepishly.  “Sorry mom,” he says as he puts on his best sad face. 

“Don’t you even try to give me the puppy dog face.  What are you doing in here?  Why are you bothering your brother?” she asks. 

“I was just giving him some advice,” Sam says stoically as he hops off the bed. 

Mary plants a hand on her hip and shakes her head.  “Sam Winchester, get your butt out of here and leave your brother alone, you know he hasn’t been feeling well.  Have you finished packing? You _do_ know we’re leaving in a couple hours, right?” he asks.

Sam grins guiltily at his mother and slides out of the room. 

Mary walks into the room and sits on the edge of Dean’s bed.  She presses the back of her hand against his forehead to check his temperature.  “Well your fever is gone.  Thank God.  Are you _sure_ you don’t want to come with us to your Grandpa’s house? It’s only the weekend,” she says with a gentle smile. 

Dean shakes his head and lies back down.  “No thanks, Mom.  I’ve got…a paper to work on,” he says. 

Mary lifts an eyebrow.  “Do you think I was born yesterday?” she asks.  “Dean, I know you’re…going through something right now, and I respect your need for…space and privacy.  But I need to let you know, that if it’s something serious, I want you to tell me,” she says.

Dean sits up again and rubs his eyes.  “Of course, Mom.  I’m just…” his voice trails off and he hangs his head.  “It’s nothing serious.”

“Dean.  Whatever it is…I’m here for you…you know that I love you, right?” Mary says softly. 

Dean looks up at his mother, feeling an uncomfortable lump forming in his throat.  Since their father had been gone, Mary had been both a mother _and_ a father to him and Sam.  She worked during the day, came home and cooked dinner for them, did their laundry, and still somehow managed to find time to sit down and help Sam with his homework.  He knew how tired his mother was all the time, and he could never understand how she could be so loving despite it all.  “How do you do it, mom?” he asks. 

She frowns.  “Do what, honey?” she asks. 

“Be away from dad, I mean you guys love each other…right?” he asks. 

Mary looks at Dean and then she looks away.  “Your father and I do love each other, yes.  But…we’ve spent so much time apart, and…it gets easier…I do miss him though,” she says quietly. 

“Why doesn’t he ever want to come home?” Dean asks in a voice barely above a whisper.

Mary turns to Dean and reaches out to touch his face lightly with her hand. 

Dean leans into the touch and closes his eyes.  “I mean, he has a choice, right?  To come home?” he asks.

Mary shrugs.  “He does…I think he just…there’s too much inside of him…too much pain…and war…and…I don’t think he thinks he’ll fit in here anymore,” she says sadly. 

Dean lets these words sink into his skin.  He’s been avoiding having this conversation with his mother for a long time.  He watches as Mary drops her hand and it falls into her lap.  She fiddles with her wedding ring, nervously and then stops when she realizes that Dean has been watching her. 

“So it’s just us, then? Me, you and Sammy?” he asks. 

Mary turns to Dean and nods.  “But don’t ever think for a second that we’re not enough, because we are.  At the end of the day, you’re all I need, you and Sam.  You’re…you’re my world, the both of you, and I wouldn’t change that for anything, or anyone.”

Dean smiles at his mother and feels a rush of warmth and affection for her in his chest.  He believes her, and knows that what she’s saying is the truth but he still feels an emptiness in his chest, an ache with each breath.  He knows what it’s like to be strong, and he doesn’t want to give in and be the one who calls Cas first but…

“Mom…can I ask you a question?” he says. 

“Sure thing, honey,” she says smiling at him. 

Dean straightens up and looks at his mother.  “I got into a big argument with a friend….and I miss them.  But…we got into an argument because they said something to me that was wrong…and I feel like…I shouldn’t have to be the one to apologize, but…I miss my friend, mom, _a lot,_ ” Dean says quietly.  The words roll out of his mouth and he feels much lighter, finally, for having spoken them. 

Mary ponders on his words for a while and then she turns to him with a small smile.  “Sometimes people say things that hurt us, and we just want nothing more than to just…get rid of them, and push them away, but…honey that’s part of life, that’s part of being human.  You’re not perfect, and neither is your friend.  Now I understand that this person hurt you, and you have every right to feel the way you do, but…sometimes…letting go of the anger, and pain, and the hurt is the better thing to do.  Maybe you should reach out to him, just…see if he’s okay,” she says.

Dean looks down at his hands and sighs. 

“We are talking about Castiel, here, right?” she asks delicately. 

Dean snaps his head up and groans.  “ _Mom!_ ”

Mary laughs and it fills the room.  “Dean come on, the way you stared at him in the kitchen alone.  You were so obvious.  You’re over the moon for that boy,” she says. 

Dean buries his face in his hands, embarrassed.  He falls back onto his pillows and turns away.  “Oh my God, mom, can we not,” he says.

“Dean, I’m your mother, I know you, better than you know yourself.  I don’t know how I feel about this Castiel now, though,” she says with a frown. 

“Mom, go away,” Dean says in a muffled voice. 

“Have it your way!” she says as she leaves the room. 

Dean groans and hides under his blankets.  Eventually, he falls back asleep.  He wakes up a couple hours later feeling much better than he had before.  His heart still aches and the voice from earlier still echoes in his head but he’s able to push it away and focus on what has really been bothering him, _Cas._ Well, Cas and what Cas had said to him.  He wonders where he should even begin with this entire mess that they had gotten themselves into when he’s interrupted by a knock on the door.  When he looks up, it’s Sam, already bundled up and ready to go. 

“I still hate you for not coming,” Sam says. 

Dean laughs.  “Sorry,” he says. 

“Are you gonna call your friend?” Sam asks. 

Dean shrugs.  “Maybe.  I still gotta think about it.”

“Hmm. Okay.  I’ll accept that answer,” Sam says.  They remain quiet for a few moments and then Sam looks up at him.  “Hey, Dean, can I ask you a question?” he asks softly. 

“Sure, what’s up?” he asks.

Sam fiddles with his fingers for a moment and then he looks at Dean.  “Who’s….Alastair?” he asks. 

The room becomes so quiet, Dean could hear a pin drop.  His blood runs cold and his heart hammers wildly in his chest.  His mouth is dry and he licks his lips.  “Why?” he asks.

Sam shrugs.  “I came in earlier to borrow some socks and…you kept saying, _no, Alastair,_ like a few times…I just never heard you talk about him before.  Is he a friend?” Sam asks.

Dean swallows against the knot forming in his throat and suddenly he’s there again, back at the party, it’s funny, he thinks, how he can remember everything, down to the stupid music and the mask Alastair had been wearing.  He runs a hand through his hair and shakes his head.  “Nah, just…I was reading something for class and the name stuck in my head,” he lies. 

Sam frowns and then he shrugs.  “Oh, okay.  Well, we’re getting ready to head out, you coming down to see us off?” he asks.

Dean smiles thinly and nods.  “Yeah, I’ll be down in a minute,” he says.  He watches Sam as he leaves and he sinks back down onto his pillows, his heart still thundering in his chest. 

Outside, the thunder rolls in the distance and even though he’s covered in blankets, he's never felt so cold. 


	6. Water Colors

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mentions of non-con.

When it rains, it pours, Cas thinks as he stares up at Dean’s house. 

He’s completely soaked, down to his socks.  Everything around him is dark, and the trees look scarier than they usually do, their branches swaying and snapping in the breeze.  He doesn’t remember ever being this cold, and he shoves his hands into his pockets, but it doesn’t do much to warm him up.  His teeth chatter of their own accord, as a deathly chill runs down his spine.  He needs to get somewhere warm, and fast.  He doesn’t think his father would be too pleased if he strolled back into the house with a nice case of pneumonia, so he takes a deep breath and crosses the street, hoping and praying that Dean will let him in. 

He walks up the stairs, the second one creaks under his weight and he stands for a few minutes under the porch, collecting himself.  It’s nice to finally be out of the downpour and he pulls his soggy jacket closer to his body in a sad attempt at keeping warm.  He tentatively walks up to the door and hovers his finger over the doorbell.  He can feel his heart thumping wildly in his chest.  He hasn’t seen Dean in so long it hurts.  He wonders again if he’ll even let him inside, but as his teeth begins a new chorus of chattering, he decides to take a chance and he rings the bell.  While he waits, the sky temporarily lights up and a few beats afterwards, the thunder rolls heavily in the distance.  Growing up, he had always liked thunderstorms, though he preferred to experience them while inside, safe and warm.  His mother had told him once that he had been born during a thunderstorm.  He turns around and looks up into the sky, waiting for another flash of lightening or a roll of thunder.  Perhaps they held secrets for him, perhaps they knew things about him that he didn’t know about himself.  Another flash illuminates everything around him, followed by a deafening roar of thunder that shakes him down to his core. 

“Cas?”

Cas freezes.  Dean’s voice hits him louder than any thunder he has ever heard.  He turns around and when he sees Dean, his heart jumps into his throat. 

Dean is staring at him from behind the screen door, clad in a pair of comfortable looking pajamas, his glasses perched delicately on his freckled nose.  He squints at him and frowns.  “What are you doing here?” he asks. 

Cas clears his throat and looks down.  “I need to talk to you,” he says.

“In the rain?  Couldn’t it wait till tomorrow?” he asks, folding his arms across his chest. 

Cas shakes his head, droplets of water flicking out of his hair.  “No, I needed to talk to you tonight.  Is it okay if I come in?” he asks. 

Dean observes him for a moment and then sighs wearily.  “Only because you look like you’re five seconds away from catching pneumonia, and my mom would kill me if a guest died on her doorstep while she was away,” he grumbles.    

Cas smiles at him but he doesn’t return it.  Instead, he pushes open the screen door and allows him to come inside.  Cas immediately kicks off his shoes and peels off his wet socks.  “Sorry about the mess,” he mumbles.    

Dean doesn’t say anything, rather he walks down the short hall and leaves Cas standing alone while he removes his wet clothes.  A minute later he returns with a plastic basket and a large towel which he thrusts at Cas wordlessly. 

“Thank you, Dean,” Cas says as he presses his face into the towel.  He looks down on it and he sees that some of his eyeliner has rubbed off onto the soft cloth. 

“You should probably take a shower or something,” Dean says tiredly. 

“Oh, no it’s okay,” Cas says quickly. 

Dean rolls his eyes.  “You’re gonna get sick if you sit around in those wet clothes.  Just…here, take off as much as you can and put it in the basket.  Bathroom is upstairs,” he says. 

“I remember where it is,” Cas says. 

Dean pauses and the ghost of a smile flits across his face.  “Yeah, okay.  You can head up, I’ll…put some clothes out for you in my room and…make you some tea or something I guess,” he says.  He puts the basket down on the floor and walks out of the hallway. 

Cas looks down at the pool of water that has settled quietly around his feet and he sighs.  He begins to strip, removing his jacket, then his shirt, then his jeans, until he’s standing practically naked, shivering, and covered in goose bumps.  He quickly wraps the towel around his body and walks inside, heading to the staircase that lead up to the second floor.  He finds the bathroom easily and slips inside, closing the door quietly behind him and immediately moving over to the bathtub where he turns on the shower.  He fiddles with the shower handles for a few minutes until the water temperature is just right and he hops in.  The hot water feels amazing on his skin and warms him up.  He smiles gratefully.  He hadn’t realized just how cold he had been. 

He searches around for soap and he picks up a small bar from the dish and begins to lather it up on his skin.  It’s only when the bubbles form and he’s soaping under his arms, he realizes that the soap smells like Dean.  Inhaling deeply, he feels something clutch at his heart and he presses his forehead up against the cool tiles.  He can’t believe he’s actually here, in Dean’s home, in his _bathroom_ , using his soap.  It’s almost surreal to think that this was where Dean showered every day, where he probably…touched himself, and who knows, maybe he thought of Cas when he did it.  His hand drifts down to his cock, almost unconsciously and he wraps a hand around it, fingers trembling.  He’s already hard, and he gives himself a couple strokes, closing his eyes and picturing Dean’s pretty mouth, lips curling into a smile.  He remembers what it felt like to kiss him, warm and soft and sweet.  He imagines the little groans Dean would make while he jerked himself off, imagined how pretty he must look when he finally came, his chest heaving and eyelids fluttering wildly.  He comes with a stifled groan, biting down on his lip and watching as his come splatters onto the pale, blue tiles.  He stands there for a few minutes, listening to his heart as it thunders wildly inside his chest.  He washes himself off and cleans up the mess he made on the wall.  When he turns the water off, he hears a soft knock on the door. 

“Cas I left you some clothes on my bed, you can get changed in there,” Dean says, his voice sounding muffled through the door. 

“Thanks, Dean,” he replies.  He listens to hear if Dean will say anything else but he doesn’t.  As he wraps himself up in the thick towel, he finds himself wondering if Dean will ever say anything at all. 

~

He pads downstairs, clad in a pair of sweatpants and a soft t-shirt that smelled like Dean.  He sticks his hands into the pockets as he wanders through the living room and then into the kitchen, where he finds Dean in front of the stove.  There’s a mug of something hot on the counter and he watches as the tender curls of smoke drift upward and into the air. 

“That’s for you,” Dean says gesturing to the mug. 

“Thanks,” Cas says.  He clambers onto a stool and wraps his hands around the mug, grateful for its warmth. 

Dean’s back is stiff as he stirs something bubbling lightly on the stovetop. 

“Smells good,” Cas remarks. 

“It’s Ramen,” Dean says dryly. 

Cas takes a sip of his tea and shudders when the warmth pools in his belly.  “Are you gonna talk to me?” Cas asks quietly. 

“I don’t know,” Dean says stiffly. 

“Dean,” Cas mumbles. 

Dean turns around and shakes his head.  “What?  Isn’t it enough that I let you into my house?  That I…look Cas, I don’t think I want to talk about it, okay?” he says angrily. 

“That’s not fair,” Cas says. 

Dean does a double take.  “I’m sorry, what?  Not fair?  Are you fucking kidding me right now?” he asks.  He pushes his glasses up on the bridge of his nose and plants a hand on his hip. 

Cas sighs and looks down into his cup.  “I fucked up, okay.  I know I did, but…you need to give me a chance to apologize, I’m sorry, Dean, I really am,” he says. 

“I don’t _need_ to do anything.  You were the one who…you said some fucked up shit to me, and now you think you can just waltz in here and…apologize and hope everything will just snap back to the way it was?” Dean asks angrily. 

“I’m not hoping for shit to snap back, I just…I don’t want…I don’t want to lose this, okay?” Cas stutters out. 

“Lose what?” Dean snaps bitterly.

“Lose _this, us_ ,” Cas shouts. 

Silence falls between them and soon the only sound in the kitchen is the bubbling of the Ramen on the stove.  Dean turns around and turns it off, then walks over to a cupboard where he opens it and pulls out two bowls. 

Cas watches as Dean pours out two portions of soup and then places them on the counter.

Dean climbs onto a stool across from him and he stirs his soup listlessly.  “You really hurt me,” he says quietly. 

Cas’ eyes fill with tears and he picks up his spoon.  “I know,” he says. 

“I…those things…whatever Alastair told you….” His voice trails off. 

Cas reaches forward and lightly touches Dean’s hand.  He’s surprised when Dean shifts and allows them to thread their fingers together. 

Dean looks down, almost mournfully, at their fingers entwined. 

“I shouldn’t have listened to him.  I should have…I push people away.  No one has ever…”

Dean looks up at him. 

“No one has ever…really cared before, not…not like you did,” Cas says.  He chews on his bottom lip and plays with his lip ring. 

“That’s not an excuse for what you did,” Dean says wearily. 

“I know, believe me I know.  If I could take it back…”

“But you can’t.”

They both fall silent again and Cas hangs his head.  He feels a knot build in his throat and tears sting at his eyes.  “Dean, please,” he says.  “Please give me another chance,” he says softly.    

Dean looks up at him and they meet each other’s gazes.  Neither of them say anything, both of them too scared to break the delicate silence that had formed around them. 

Cas feels raw, exposed, like an open wound.  He wants nothing more than to pull Dean into his arms and hold him and kiss him.  He wants to tell him how sorry he is, from the bottom of his heart.  He wants to tell him how much it means to him that despite the fact that he was mad at him, he still let him in, gave him clothes, made him tea, cooked him food.  He realizes that perhaps this is really it, that there was no where else to go from here.  They had finally hit the brick wall and there was no going back.  Dean was hurt, he was wounded, and he wasn’t willing to chance it, wasn’t willing to run the risk of getting his heart broken again.  He smiles sadly and lets go of Dean’s hand. 

“I’m sorry, Dean, I shouldn’t have come here,” he says. 

Dean observes him but doesn’t say anything. 

“I…it was presumptuous of me, to come here and think that…” he laughs and shakes his head.  “I’m not good enough for you,” he says with a shrug of his shoulders.  He reaches up and runs his index finger beneath his eyes.  When he looks down, there is eyeliner smudged on the tips of his finger. 

“Cas?” Dean says quietly. 

Cas looks up at him.  “Yeah?”

Dean fidgets and then looks away.  “Me and Alastair…we…”

“You don’t have to say anything.  That’s your personal information,” Cas says. 

Dean shakes his head.  “No. No I need…I need to tell someone,” he says, his bottom lip quivering.  He doesn’t look up, instead he chooses to focus on his hands. 

Cas shifts on his seat, looking at Dean, terrified as to what was about to come out of his mouth. 

“It was…last year, I got dragged into going to some party,” he begins. 

Outside the sky lights up and the thunder rolls loudly.  Cas looks out the window and then back at Dean. 

“I didn’t want to go but…I went anyway.  And…I had a lot to drink, a little too much…it was Halloween so…I ended up, in a bedroom, not sure how I got there.  It took me a little while to put all the pieces together but…Alastair was…he ah…”

Cas feels his heart drop into the pit of his stomach and he balls his hands into fists.  “What did that sick fuck do to you?” he asks angrily. 

Dean shakes his head.  “He kept telling me I would like it, I was drunk and…he just kinda….climbed on top of me and we kissed for a while, and at first I was okay, but then he started touching me and I wasn’t comfortable so I told him to stop….but he didn’t…”

“What the fuck?”

“He…shoved his hand down my pants and he jerked me off, pinned me down so I couldn’t move, kept telling me how good I was for him, how pretty I was…I didn’t want to come but…I did…I mean what was I supposed to do?” Dean asks.  His face crumples and he buries his face in his hands.  “What was I supposed to do?” he asks again. 

Cas gets up and walks over to him.  He turns Dean around and pulls him into his arms. 

“I’m gonna kill him,” Cas says. 

Dean’s entire body shudders as he cries but he doesn’t say anything. 

“Dean what the fuck, why didn’t you report him?” Cas asks.   

Dean shrugs.  “What was I gonna say?  That some guy jerked me off?  That he called me a fag?” he asks bitterly.  “No one would have done anything,” he says. 

Cas stares at him incredulously.  “But how did you go to school with him there and even feel safe?” he asks. 

Dean chuckles.  “I started hanging out with this guy, Benny.  He’s really cool, he’s on the football team,” he says with a sniffle.  “I kinda…hinted that I didn’t like him and when he saw me hanging around with them, he left me alone, plus, he’s graduating in a couple months anyway,” he says with a shrug. 

Cas stares at him and shakes his head.  “Dean what the fuck, you put yourself in some serious danger.  What if that asshole had tried to do something to you again?” Cas asks angrily. 

Dean shrugs.  “I don’t know…” he says. 

“Dean, I…I don’t know what to say.  Do you want me to kick his ass?” he asks.

Dean huffs.  “No,” he says. 

Cas cocks an eyebrow and Dean sighs.  “Okay, maybe a little,” he says. 

Cas pulls him in again and holds onto him.  It feels good, to have Dean’s body pressed up against him, and when he feels Dean’s arms snake around his waist he sends up a silent prayer to whoever might be listening.  “Dean, you didn’t have to do that, you know,” he says. 

Dean pulls back and looks up at him.  “Why not?” he asks.

Cas shrugs.  “I know how hard it is to…talk about shit,” he says. 

Dean reaches up and wipes away some of the eyeliner from beneath Cas’ eyes.  “You put on eyeliner to come see me?” he asks with a soft smile. 

Cas nods and grins shyly.  “Yeah,” he mumbles. 

“It’s hard to talk about shit but…sometimes you need to.  Especially when it’s someone you care about,” he says softly. 

Cas looks up at him and his eyes sting once more.  “Dean you know I’m sorry, right?” he asks.

Dean stares at him and then he shakes his head.  “Will you stop apologizing and just kiss me already?” he asks. 

Cas’ lip trembles and he nods.  He realizes now what this meant for Dean, how significant it was that he even let him in, in the first place.  He slowly moves in, gently reaching up to cup Dean’s face in his hands and presses his lips against Dean’s.  He feels when Dean plants his hands on his hips and Cas smiles against Dean’s mouth.  He darts a tongue into Dean’s mouth and their tongues meet, dancing for a moment before parting once more. 

When they finally manage to break apart, they remain there for a few moments, taking in the stillness of the room around them.  Cas leans forward and presses his forehead against Dean’s. 

Dean searches for his hands and they thread their fingers together.  “I’ve missed you,” Dean whispers softly.

Cas smiles.  “I’ve missed us,” he mumbles.  “I’ve missed…who I am…when I’m with you,” he says. 

Dean sniffles and squeezes down on Cas’ hands. 

Silence wraps itself around them and soon the only sound to be heard is that of the rain as it falls from the sky. 

Like a thousand sighs, they fall and kiss the ground.  


	7. Plique-à-Jour

They end up on the couch. 

Dean sits with his legs up and crossed on the soft cushions.  Cas is lying down, his head in Dean’s lap, staring moodily out the window and flinching lightly whenever the thunder rolls.  Dean cards his fingers through Cas’ hair, content with the strange silence that has settled around them like a thick blanket.

“You okay?” Dean asks, eventually. 

Cas sighs and shifts, turning to face Dean.  He looks up at him, blue eyes glimmering faintly in the soft light from the lamp.  “No,” he whispers. 

Dean frowns down at him.  “What’s wrong?”

Cas shrugs his shoulders and looks away once more.  “I can’t stop thinking about it,” he says. 

Dean clenches his jaw and his fingers stop moving through Cas’ damp hair.  “Well, you’re gonna have to,” he says.  Telling Cas about what had happened with him and Alastair had been a big leap, it had been a risk, and now he’s wondering if telling him had been a good idea at all. 

Cas pulls himself up to a sitting position and turns to face Dean.  He folds his legs up beneath him and he looks down at his hands.  “I want to punch him until he can’t see anymore,” he says with a bitter laugh.   

Dean rolls his eyes.  “You don’t think I want to do the same?  It makes no sense, it’s not gonna change anything,” he says wearily. 

“It’ll make me sleep better at night,” Cas rumbles grouchily. 

Dean chuckles and shakes his head.  “Calm your tits,” he says as he pushes his glasses up on the bridge of his nose. 

Cas looks up at him, grinning.  “Did you just tell me to calm my tits?” he asks, moving forward. 

“Yeah, and what are you gonna do about it?” Dean asks, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. 

Cas leans forward and plants a soft kiss on Dean’s lips, smiling when he feels Dean’s hands on his waist. 

Dean moans softly and pushes Cas down onto his back.  He straddles Cas’ hips and presses his hands onto his chest.  They stare at each other for a few moments, Cas’ face illuminated by the soft lamp light, and Dean’s face hidden in shadow. 

“Dean…” Cas whispers softly. 

Dean leans over and kisses him on the chin, then slowly moves on to his cheek, he kisses his temple, his forehead, his other temple, and his other cheek.  Cas’ eyes flutter shut and Dean kisses each eyelid, tender, warm, and soft. 

Cas lets out a soft groan and he digs his fingertips into Dean’s waist, holding onto him.  He feels himself getting hard, and he blushes. He imagines his face must be red, and he wonders how it’s possible for that to even happen, what with all of the blood in his body going to his cock.    

Dean stirs and then purposely grinds down on Cas’ cock, causing him to jump. 

“ _Dean_ ,” Cas moans again, his breath hitching in his throat. 

“Cas…I wanna…” his voice trails off and he drags his hand down to the bulge in the soft sweatpants. 

Cas is unable to do much besides nod weakly, and Dean slips his hand beneath the waistband of the pants, only to realize that Cas isn’t wearing any underwear.  He gingerly wraps his hand around Cas’ semi-hard cock and gives it a gentle squeeze. 

Cas’ entire body twitches and he stares up at Dean, a little amazed that this is actually happening. 

“Dean are you sure you want to do this?” Cas mumbles through his strained breath. 

Dean slows down and looks up at him.  “I…I want to, Cas…I haven’t been able to…feel much for anyone since it happened….but you…I  _want_  to do this for you, please?” he asks. 

Cas nods again and lets out a shuddering breath as Dean resumes his stroking. 

He stops and works on pulling Cas’ pants down, watching as Cas’ cock, flushed and already leaking pre-come, pops out.  He wraps his hand around it once more and begins to stroke him once more. 

It’s beautiful, he realizes, seeing Cas like this.  His eyes are darkened with pleasure, and his cheeks have a faint blush to them.  It’s better, he thinks, having Cas here like this, instead of lying in bed and trying to  _imagine_  what it would look like.  He thinks back to the nights he spent locked in his room, watching porn, feeling aroused and ashamed and confused all at the same time.  He remembers how he had scorned touching himself for so many months after what had happened with Alastair, how he had felt that he was broken and that he would never be the same. 

Now, he’s in a different position.  Now he’s the one giving pleasure, and perhaps, the most important thing, is that the pleasure is wanted,  _desired_.  He smiles and squeezes down on Cas’ cock, flicking his thumb across the slit and then reaching down to gently roll his balls with his other hand.  He knows this feels good, he’s done it to himself before.  He feels his own cock stir in his pants as he watches Cas come undone before him. 

Cas lets out a soft moan and he closes his eyes.  “Dean…” he whispers again, his voice strung out and wavering. 

Dean increases his speed, and licks his lips, enjoying the feeling of Cas’ hard cock in his hand.  He watches as Cas balls his hands into fists when suddenly, his eyes shoot open and he comes.  Hot come spills out of Cas’ cock and onto Dean’s fist.  He doesn’t stop stroking, and he wickedly touches the sensitive slit of Cas’ cock, delighting in the little tremors and shakes he gets from him. 

“Christ,” Cas mumbles, his chest heaving. 

“Wow,” Dean whispers.  He continues to stroke Cas’ cock, giggling as another spurt of come oozes out of the tip. 

“Shit, Dean…” Cas says looking up at him. 

Dean smiles and finally lets go of Cas’ cock.  “I’ve never done that before, for anyone,” Dean says in a small voice. 

Cas is flushed but he blushes.  “Do you want me to…” his voice trails off.

Panic clutches at Dean’s chest and he quickly shakes his head.  Giving pleasure was one thing…receiving it, a whole other ballgame, and as much as he likes Cas, he’s not sure if he’s ready to have someone else’s hands on him so intimately.  “No, it’s fine, I’m fine…I don’t know if I’m…”

Cas nods and sits up.  “It’s fine, Dean, really.  I get it,” he whispers.  He leans forward and kisses Dean softly on his lips once more, smiling against his mouth. 

“Let me get something to clean you up,” Dean says with a shy smile.  He untangles himself from Cas and slides off the couch.  “Don’t get any come on my mother’s couch,” he teases. 

Cas rolls his eyes and laughs.  “I’ll do my best,” he says.  He watches as Dean pads out of the living room, flinching when the thunder rolls again in the distance. 

* * *

Dean comes back with a warm wash cloth and takes his time cleaning up the mess Cas made.  His face is hot and red, surprised that something this intimate is happening on his living room couch. 

Cas is quiet and hums happily as Dean wipes his cock and the insides of his thighs. 

“Was it okay?” Dean asks, lowering his gaze.  He stops wiping up and allows Cas to wiggle back into his sweats. 

“Yeah,” he says with a smile. 

“Can I ask you a personal question?” Dean asks, looking up at him. 

Cas draws his legs back and presses them against his chest.  He nods and watches as Dean blushes even more before asking his question.

“Are you a virgin?” Dean asks in a small voice.  “You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to…I’m just…curious,” he says. 

Cas chews on his bottom lip and eventually he shakes his head.  “No, I’m not,” he says.  “Does that bother you?” Cas asks, fiddling with his lip ring. 

Dean shrugs and shakes his head.  “Nah, I mean…I um…I am…a virgin I mean,” he admits, looking down. 

Cas unfolds his legs and slides over to him, wrapping an arm around his waist.  “That’s okay, Dean.  I won’t…it doesn’t matter to me, and I’m not…gonna pressure you into anything you don’t want to do,” he whispers.  

Dean lets out a shaky breath and nods.  He turns to Cas and smiles at him.  “That is some good eyeliner,” he murmurs. 

Cas laughs and snuggles closer to Dean.  “Hey…does your mom have makeup in her room?” he asks, straightening up. 

Dean makes a face.  “Well, yeah, why?” he asks. 

Cas grins.  “Let’s go,” he says as he gets up off the couch. 

Dean frowns at him.  “Go where?” he asks. 

“To your mom’s room, I wanna see what kind of make up she has,” he says. 

“Why?” Dean asks. 

Cas rolls his eyes and grabs on to Dean’s hand.  He pulls him off the couch and leads him out of the living room. 

Quietly, they walk through the house and up the stairs to the second floor.  Dean opens the door to his mother’s room and flicks the switch.  He watches as Cas pads over to his mother’s dresser and sits down on the little stool. 

Cas immediately pulls open a drawer and rifles through it for a moment before he finds what he’s looking for.  “Eyeliner,” he says with a grin. 

Dean folds his hands across his chest and rolls his eyes.  “Really, Cas? Are you addicted to that shit or something?” he asks. 

Cas hops off the stool and grins.  “It’s not for me, silly.  It’s for you,” he says.  He walks over to Dean and wiggles his eyebrows. 

“No, way, Cas,” Dean says, shaking his head. 

Cas pouts.  “Please? I just wanna see what it would look like.  I’m sure you’d look hot,” Cas says with a whine. 

“Cas that’s weird, I don’t wear make up,” Dean says awkwardly. 

Cas grins.  “It’s just me and you.  No one else is gonna see it,” he says with a smile. 

Dean sighs and shakes his head.  “Fine, but I’m taking it off as soon as you’re done,” he grouses. 

Cas laughs and grabs on to Dean’s hand, dragging him to the bathroom.    

Once in the bathroom, Dean clambers up onto the counter next to the sink and watches as Cas removes the cap to the little black stick of eyeliner.  Cas pulls out his cell phone from his pocket and opens his music player.  He scrolls through his music for a few beats before settling on a song. 

“The Velvet Underground?” Dean asks, surprised.  

Cas looks up at him and smiles.  “Yeah, you like them?”

“I love them, this is one of my favorite songs,” Dean gushes. 

“Yeah, Nico is awesome, alright, try not to blink too much, okay?” he says.

Dean blushes when Cas reaches up and removes his glasses.  He puts them to the side and begins to apply the eyeliner to his waterline.  He flinches and blinks, automatically and Cas reaches out to steady him with a warm hand on his shoulder. 

“It’s harder, doing this for someone else,” Cas remarks.  He raises his hand from his shoulder and uses his fingers to pull the skin under Dean’s eye to help with drawing the line.  When he’s satisfied with the left eye, he moves on to the right, smiling when Dean doesn’t flinch or blink.  “You can breathe, you know,” he teases. 

Dean chuckles and takes a deep breath.  “When did you start wearing eyeliner?” Dean asks. 

“A few years ago,” he replies as he makes some last adjustments to Dean’s eyes. 

“Why?” Dean asks. 

Cas stares into his eyes and shrugs.  “I thought it looked cool.  Makes me look all mysterious,” he says, wiggling his fingers. 

Dean rolls his eyes and squints at Cas’ phone when a new song comes on.  “What the hell is that?” he asks. 

“Oh shit,” Cas mumbles.  He reaches for his phone but Dean beats him to it, picking it up and reading the name of the song.  “ _Warm Whispers, Missy Higgins_?” he asks, arching his eyebrows. 

“My  _sister_ , sent it to me,” Cas gripes as he makes a swipe for the phone. 

Dean leans back and shakes his head.  “Oh no, this sounds pretty mushy and romantic.  We’re gonna listen to it,” he says. 

Cas grumbles something below his breath but he puts the eyeliner down and steps back.  “You look good,” he says with a smile. 

Dean slides off the counter and slowly turns around to stare at himself in the mirror.  He lets out a soft gasp when he sees the thin lines that Cas has drawn on under his eyes.  It’s strange, seeing himself like this, but even he has to admit it, it looks good, shit, it looks  _cool_. 

“What do you think?” Cas asks, coming up behind him.  He wraps his arms around Dean’s waist and hooks his chin on his shoulder. 

Dean blushes.  “I like it,” he says. 

“You look sexy,” Cas whispers. 

Dean laughs.  “Shut up.” 

Cas presses a soft kiss against Dean’s neck, linking his fingers over his tummy and squeezing down lightly.  “Dean?” Cas mumbles. 

“Yeah, Cas?”

Cas pauses and presses another kiss against Dean’s skin.  “Do you really forgive me?” he asks. 

When Dean looks into the mirror, Cas’ eyes are filled with tears.  He quickly turns around and reaches up to cup Cas’ face in his hands.  “Yes,” he says. 

“I mean…what I did to you…what I said…I don’t know if I can ever…make up for it,” he whispers. 

“You didn’t know…” Dean says.  “Look man, if I was gonna walk around and just…not talk to every single person who looked at me funny or rubbed me the wrong way, I’d be really lonely.  I’m not saying you have to forgive everyone but…sometimes…you gotta know when to forgive and now I’m rambling and I sound like my mother, please shut me up, yes I forgive you,” Dean says. 

Cas laughs and leans forward for a kiss. 

“This song is  _really_  sappy, dude,” Dean whispers.  “It’s okay if you like it, you can tell me,” Dean teases. 

“I do like it, actually,” he says haughtily.  “What, I can’t enjoy some romantic music every now and then?” he asks. 

Dean laughs and shakes his head.  “I’m gonna make some hot chocolate, you want some?” he asks. 

Cas hums and nods.  “Hey aren’t you gonna take off the eyeliner?” he asks.

Dean turns and looks at himself in the mirror once more.  He shakes his head.  “Nah, I like it,” he says with a smile. 

* * *

“Indiana Jones,” Dean says before he takes a sip of his hot chocolate.

Cas frowns and shakes his head.  “Nope, never seen it,” he says. 

Dean’s eyes bulge out of his sockets.  “Are you  _kidding_  me?” he asks incredulously.

Cas shrugs.  “Nope.”

“Uh-uh, no, let’s go,” Dean says getting up. 

“Go where?” Cas asks. 

“Living room, I can’t believe you’ve never watched Indiana Jones,” he says as he walks out of the kitchen. 

Cas follows him and laughs when he realizes that Dean is pulling out DVD’s.  “You own them on DVD?” he asks, plopping down onto the couch. 

“Of course I do,” he says smugly.  He sets everything up and curls up on the couch next to Cas. 

It only takes them a moment to fit together, like two puzzle pieces, and Cas puts his mug down on the floor so he can wrap his arm around Dean’s shoulder instead.  He sits in the corner of the chair and Dean leans back onto his chest, allowing Cas to hold onto him.  It’s warm and intimate and Dean feels safe wrapped up in Cas’ arms.  The movie starts up and Dean snuggles against Cas. 

“Don’t even think about falling asleep either,” he grouses. 

Cas chuckles and shakes his head.  “I won’t,” he says.  He holds on to Dean tightly and focuses on the movie.  Dean is warm and solid in his arms, and he can’t ever remember the last time he’s felt so… _happy_ , so content with his life. 

He smiles, a soft smile, one that Dean doesn’t see.  He can’t  _wait_  to go to school on Monday. 

Alastair won’t see him coming. 


	8. Écorché

Castiel sketches Dean while he sleeps. 

His hand flies across the page, the tip of the pencil barely scratching the surface.  Slowly but surely, an image forms, sharp lines meet to form Dean’s nose; next: the angle of his chin, afterwards, his eyes, closed, like two crescent moons hovering in the night sky. 

Weak light filters in through the curtains and Castiel yawns.  He sketches for a few more minutes, until his hand gets tired and he stops.  Next to him, wrapped up in blankets, Dean is still fast asleep, his chest rising up and down.  Cas wants to sketch Dean’s face forever.  He wants to get lost in those lines of graphite, wants to spend the rest of the day, cataloguing each mark and freckle on Dean’s skin. 

It’s silly, he knows, but he feels it nonetheless.  He tries to pinpoint what it is exactly about Dean that makes him feel this way.  They’ve only known each other for a couple months, they kissed a few times, sure, held hands at a movie theater, yes, and Dean had given him a wonderfully toe-curling orgasm just a few hours ago but…was it too early to call it  _something?_   To want to give it a name?  He fiddles with his lip ring, pressing his tongue against the roundness of it and wonders if perhaps he’s just reading too much into things.  Maybe this whole thing was just a phase.  Maybe it wouldn’t go anywhere. 

 _It’s too early to tell,_ he thinks as he turns on his side so he can stare at Dean’s face.  There’s a certain calmness that comes with being around him, something inside of him settles, and the bubble on his level is suddenly at dead-center.  He doesn’t know what it means.  He’s never felt this way about anyone before, and surely never this fast.  His fingers twitch and he suddenly wishes he had a cigarette, something to distract him from the way Dean’s lashes reach out for him.  Instead, he lifts his hand and brushes his fingers against Dean’s cheek, smiling when Dean shifts and wrinkles his nose.  Slowly, his eyes open and he blinks several times, adjusting to the dim light in his room, and possibly to the warmness of Cas’ body, so close to his own. 

Dean smiles, and Cas feels butterflies brush against the inside of his stomach. 

“Hey,” Dean whispers, his voice thick with sleep. 

Cas smiles at him, all teeth and gums and he inches closer.  “Hey yourself,” he murmurs. 

“Are you staring at me while I sleep? S’creepy,” Dean mumbles. 

“I’m taking notes,” Cas teases. 

 Dean cocks an eyebrow.  “Oh really?  Is this a class?” he asks. 

“Are you ready for the exam?” Cas asks with a wink. 

Dean laughs and covers his face with his hands.  “Oh God, no, no cheesy pick-up lines, okay?” he says through his fingers. 

Cas reaches up and pries Dean’s fingers away from his face.  “Okay,” he says with a laugh. 

Dean shyly extends his arm, his hand aiming for Cas’ messy bed head.  He runs his fingers through Cas’ hair, smiling when Cas closes his eyes and hums happily.  “Did you sleep okay?”

Cas shrugs.  “Yeah, I did.  I got a couple hours.”

Dean frowns.  “A couple hours?  Jeeze, you really need to sleep more, it explains a lot,” he says.

“Explains what?” Cas asks.

“Why you’re so cranky all the damned time,” he says with a yawn.  He runs a hand through his own hair and settles deeper into the nest of blankets.  His eyes close once more and he smiles.  “I’m so warm.  I don’t want to get out of bed.”

“Then don’t.”

Dean opens his eyes and stares at Cas.  “I like having you here.”

For a moment, Cas forgets how to breathe and his heart leaps into his throat.  He can’t remember the last time someone has enjoyed having him around, has enjoyed his company.  He’s so used to being toxic, to being avoided that a part of him doesn’t believe it.  That part of him flinches and recoils away from Dean, away from his goodness and his freckles and that little smile that is slowly softening him from the inside out.  He realizes that he’s melting.  How cliché.

“You look all blurry,” Dean rumbles. 

Cas lowers his gaze.  “It’s better if you see me that way.  If you start digging, you might not like what you find,” he murmurs.     

Dean reaches out to graze Cas’ cheek with his finger.  “I already like what I see,” he says softly. 

Cas’ heart leaps into his throat once more. 

If he doesn’t watch himself, it might just stay there.

* * *

They make breakfast together.  Castiel fumbles with the eggs and cracks them badly, accidentally dropping one on the floor and making a mess. 

Dean laughs softly to himself as he easily mixes pancake batter and pours it onto the hot skillet.  “You don’t cook, huh?” he asks as he looks down at Cas who is wiping up bits of shell and yolk from the ground. 

Castiel laughs and shrugs.  “Not really.  I usually eat toast, and sandwiches, things that don’t require stoves.” 

“Doesn’t your dad cook at home?”

“Not really.  He’s busy all the time, eats out at restaurants.  He brings me food though, I don’t starve,” Cas says with a knowing laugh. 

Dean lets out a sigh of relief.  “Oh thank God, I thought for second that you weren’t eating…”

Cas snorts and walks over to the garbage can.  “Your life is so different from mine,” he says as he stops in front of the fridge.  The door is covered in magnets and photographs.  Cas studies an old Polaroid of two kids on the beach. 

“That’s me and Sammy,” he says as he walks over. 

Cas smiles.  “You guys used a Polaroid camera?”

“My dad had one, loved taking pictures of us when we were little.  I have no idea where it is now though,” he says. 

Cas touches one with Sam, Dean and Mary.  Mary is sitting at the kitchen table, Sam on one leg, Dean on the other.  Her arms are wrapped around them and she looks tired but happy.  “Your mom is beautiful.”

Dean walks back to the stove and quickly flips the pancakes.  “Yeah, she is,” Dean says with a smile.  “What about your mom?  You hardly ever talk about her.”

Cas bristles but doesn’t respond.  His eyes roam over to another photograph, presumably of Sam as a baby, swaddled in blankets and sleeping in a crib.  “Not much to say,” he replies eventually. 

Dean scoops the pancakes off the griddle and puts them on a plate.  He pours out some more batter and watches them closely for bubbles. 

“We don’t have the best relationship.  It’s why I’m here…I couldn’t live with her anymore…it was too much for me.”

Dean flips the pancakes and nods.  “Do you like living with your dad better?” he asks. 

Cas laughs bitterly and shrugs.  “At least my mom talked to me, it was mainly screaming but still…my dad is just…he’s busy all the time, I mean…always in the office, handling a million and one things, he doesn’t have time for me…” Cas stops.  He realizes how much he’s saying, how much of himself he’s pouring out to Dean and how pathetic it all sounds.  “Anyway, it’s not important.  Who wants to talk to me anyway, right? I mean look at me,” he says. 

Dean scoops the remaining pancakes off the griddle and he turns off the stove.  After he puts them on the plate, he rests down his spatula and turns to Cas.  “You really feel that way?” he asks. 

“What?” Cas asks, shrinking back. 

“That no one wants to talk to you because of how you look?” he asks, some anger creeping into his voice. 

Cas shrugs again.  “I’m not exactly the most friendly person to be around,” he says plainly.  “I’m not gonna sugar-coat it for myself, I know what kind of person I am.”

Dean shakes his head.  “No you don’t,” he says. 

“I know me better than anyone else, Dean.  I’m the one who has to spend all this time with me…not you…not anyone else…you don’t know me,” Cas says moving away. 

Dean sucks in a breath.  “Don’t do this, Cas…don’t,” he says quietly.  He pads over to him and places a hand on his shoulder.  “Don’t leave me.”

Slowly, Cas turns around and faces Dean.  His heart is heavy and there’s a knot forming in his throat.  When he blinks, his eyes sting with tears.  “I’m being stupid,” he says. 

“No, you’re not…you’re just…look, I want you here, okay?  I don’t care about anyone else, I don’t care what they think, fuck that shit, I want  _you_.”

Cas hangs his head.  “When I talk about those things…I feel like I’m bursting at the seams…like I…” his voice trails off. 

Dean gingerly reaches forward and places his hands on Cas’ waist.  He pulls him closer, until they’re both barely inches apart.  He leans over and presses a kiss against Cas’ lips, soft and slow, gently teasing Cas with his tongue and gripping onto him tightly. 

Cas leans into the kiss, and plants his own hands on Dean’s waist.  He feels Dean’s cock pressed up against him, slowly hardening the longer they kiss. 

Finally, when they pull apart, Dean is flushed, and a little embarrassed.  He pushes his glasses up on the bridge of his nose and clears his throat. 

Cas looks down at Dean’s erection, bulging slightly through his pants and he chuckles.  “Want me to help with that?” he asks. 

Dean blushes and he shakes his head.  “No, I’m good…” he says with a little smile.  He kisses Cas again and then walks over to the plate of pancakes.  “Wanna eat?” he asks.

Cas rubs the back of his neck and he nods.  “Yeah.” He walks over to the table and pulls out a chair while Dean places a bottle of maple syrup between them. 

“I’m sorry if you feel weird…I just…I’m not ready for…”

Cas looks up, alarmed.  “Oh God, no, it’s fine Dean, really, I just thought I would ask…I didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable,” he stutters. 

Dean grins and sits down.  “We’re just a big ole’ bucket of issues, aren’t we?” he asks with a laugh. 

Cas chuckles and begins to cut his pancakes.  “Yeah,” he says with a laugh. 

Dean watches as Cas squeezes out an unhealthy amount of syrup onto his pancakes. 

When Cas catches him watching, he flushes and puts the bottle down.  “Sorry, I like it sweet,” he says. 

Dean frowns.  “Oh really?  You know from the way you look I figured you’d want wasabi or something to spread out on them,” he teases. 

Cas rolls his eyes.  “Hush,” he says as he bites into his pancake. 

Dean watches him, waiting for his opinion. 

“Oh my God, Dean,” Cas breathes.  “Oh my God, why are these so delicious?” he asks, his mouth stuffed full. 

Dean laughs loudly, the sound filling the kitchen and bouncing off the walls.  He feels a warmth spreading in his chest as he watches Cas eat, happy that he’s eating something warm, something that wasn’t warmed up in a microwave.  He slides his plate over, offering up his own pancakes to Cas. 

“No, Dean, you eat.”

Dean rolls his eyes.  “Eat it, Cas, while it’s still warm.  I’m in the mood for some Cheerios,” he says. 

Cas stares at him.  “No, I’m fine, seriously,” he says, pushing the plate back over. 

Dean reaches for Cas’ hand and threads their fingers together.  “I want you to eat them, Cas.  When was the last time someone cooked you something?  I can make pancakes whenever, just…eat them, please?” he asks. 

Cas sighs and reluctantly pulls the plate back over. 

Dean laughs as Cas smothers the pancakes in syrup.  “That’s not good for you,” he says.

Cas grins.  “I know.”

* * *

After they do the dishes, Sunday stretches before them like a long, winding river.  Dean’s body hums with the excitement of possibility, of maybe getting out of the house and doing something with Cas.  It’s only when Cas leaves him to shower does he realize that he doesn’t have any clean clothes, and so he opens his drawers and his closet and rifles through for some things that would fit him.  He finds a couple pairs of jeans that he hasn’t worn in ages that look like they might fit, and a few t-shirts, all of them with something equally geeky on them. 

Cas walks into his room, a towel wrapped around his waist and Dean looks up, eyes pausing on Cas’ chest covered in tiny droplets of water. 

“We’ve got to stop meeting like this,” Cas teases.

Dean blushes and laughs.  “So…jeans, you can try those on they should fit, and I put a couple shirts out, you can pick one…” he says as he gestures to the clothing on the bed. 

Cas hums and walks up to him.  He looks at the clothing neatly arranged on Dean’s bed and he frowns.  “Which one do you like the most?” he asks, finally. 

Dean blushes again and runs a hand through his hair.  “Well, the batman one is my favorite,” he says. 

Cas observes it for a second and then he nods.  “Good, I’ll wear that one,” he says.  “Where are we going, by the way?” Cas asks.

Dean scratches his chin and shrugs.  “I dunno, I mean, we could stay here or…go to The Roadhouse and have burgers or something,” he says offhandedly. 

“You mean like a date?” Cas asks with a grin. 

Dean rolls his eyes and laughs.  “If you want it to be.”

They stare at each other for a few beats and then Cas nods.  “Yeah, I’d like that,” he says eventually. 

Dean grins and walks away, but not before Cas grasps his hand and pulls him in for a quick kiss. 

“I’m gonna get too used to having you around,” he says with a little pout. 

“Cheer up, Mona Lisa,” Cas huffs as Dean leaves the room. 

When Dean is gone and he can hear the shower running from Down the hall, Cas takes his time and gets dressed, pulling on the jeans Dean had given him and the shirt, enjoying it’s softness against his skin.  He observes himself in the mirror and he adjusts the shirt, it fits just fine and actually looks good on him, with its vintage batman logo on the front.  He runs his hand through his hair and wonders what it’s going to be like, being at a restaurant with Dean, on a proper date.  His stomach twinges in anticipation.  He takes a few deep breaths and begins to dry his hair with the towel. 

What he would give for a cigarette. 

* * *

When they get to The Roadhouse, it doesn’t take them long to get a table.  The server shows them over to a booth in the corner next to the window and Dean slides in, while Cas sits across from him.  The waitress places two menus down on the tacky plastic tabletop and tells them that she’ll be back in a few minutes to take their order. 

Dean looks around and recognizes some kids from school, a bunch of them are coupled off, on dates, of course, and there are a few tables with groups of friends, all sitting together, eating fries and laughing loudly. He looks up at Cas who is staring down at the menu but not really reading anything.  Dean frowns.  “You okay?” he asks. 

Cas looks up at him and shrugs.  He wrings his hands together and fidgets.  “Yeah, fine,” he says quickly. 

“What’s wrong?  You look like you’re about to jump out the window,” Dean says, lowering his voice. 

Cas shifts on his seat and looks around.  “Doesn’t this…don’t you feel weird, being here?” he asks. 

Dean makes a face.  “Weird?  Weird how?”

“All these people, seeing us together?” Cas asks.

Dean makes an undignified sound that gets caught somewhere in the back of his throat.  “People have seen us together all over school, what’s the big deal?”

“That’s school, that’s us just being friends there but this is…this is different, Dean, this means…” his voice trails off. 

The waitress approaches their table and she smiles at them.  “You boys ready to order?” she asks. 

“I think we need a few more minutes,” Dean says. 

“Sure thing,” she says before she walks over to another table. 

“Do you want to leave?” Dean asks, his voice cracking slightly.

Cas looks up and he shakes his head.  “No, I’m sorry I just…aren’t you worried about tomorrow?  About what people are gonna say about you, hanging around with me?”

Dean rolls his eyes and reaches forward to hold onto Cas’ hand.  “I don’t care,” he says with a shrug. 

“You know your friend Benny can’t protect you forever,” Cas whispers.   

Dean chuckles.  “I don’t expect him to.  And he’s not protecting me from the masses, just looking out for me from one asshole in particular,” he says as he picks up his menu.  “If you wanna order some food to go we can, we can go back to my house,” he says. 

“No I…I wanna be here with you.  It’s nice,” Cas says.  He picks up his menu and begins to scan the laminated page.  “You know I’ve never been here,” he murmurs. 

“Really?”

“Dean!”

Both Dean and Cas put down their menus and look up in unison, only to see Benny, standing next to their table with a big grin on his face.  He has his arm slung around the waist of a pretty girl with dark eyes and curly hair and he’s wearing his football jacket, looking very much like the typical high school jock. 

Dean grins at Benny and then at the girl.  “Hey guys.”

“Hey Dean,” the girl responds. 

“Why didn’t you tell me you were coming here?” Benny asks.  He turns to Cas and nods.  “Hey,” he says.

Cas musters up a smile and waves.  “Hello,” he says. 

“It was sort of a last minute decision,” Dean says with a smile.  “Oh, Andrea, you know Castiel, right?  Cas, this is Benny and Andrea,” Dean says. 

Cas smiles again and he hopes it looks genuine.  “Nice to meet you both.”  He watches as Dean chats with them, the way his face lights up when he and Benny joke around about the last episode of Arrow and how cheesy it was.  Even Andrea chimes in, and suddenly, Cas has an idea.  “Do you guys want to join us?” he asks. 

Everyone stops talking and they turn to Cas. 

Dean shoots him a look.  “Are you sure?” he asks quietly. 

Cas nods.  “Yeah, why not?” he asks with a shrug.  He slides over and makes room for someone else to sit and Benny looks at Dean. 

“This okay with you?” he asks. 

Dean looks at Cas once more and Cas nods lightly.  “Sure, why not?” he says.  He too slides over and Andrea takes the empty spot next to him while Benny takes the spot next to Cas. 

The waitress comes back and takes their orders, Benny and Andrea thankfully already knowing what they wanted, and she walks away with the menus and promising to be back with their drinks in a few minutes. 

The conversation starts off a little slow, none of them sure of what to talk about.  Andrea eventually breaks the silence with a laugh and soon, they’re all laughing along with her, even though they’re not sure why.  She starts talking to Cas, asking him about his art and he feels a blush steal through his cheeks to be the topic of conversation, but he answers anyway, taking a steadying breath when Dean reaches forward to grasp onto his hand. 

Benny and Andrea don’t bat a lash and they continue on as though nothing has happened. 

When their food arrives, Dean and Benny are in the middle of one of their regular Superman vs. Batman battles. 

“I see you’ve got Cas here playing on your team,” Benny says sourly as he points to Cas’ shirt. 

Cas bites into his burger and looks up quickly.  “I didn’t do anything,” he says through a full mouth of burger. 

They all burst into laughter and Dean shakes his head, looking over at Cas and smiling at him. 

Conversation takes a different turn and soon they’re all discussing school and classes and where they’d like to go to college next year. 

Cas takes a sip of his soda and as the sickly sweet liquid swishes around in his mouth he takes a quick inventory of how he’s feeling.  Most of the awkwardness has gone away, and he feels full, and comfortable and… _happy_.  It’s strange, he realizes, to feel this way around other people, since he hasn’t opened himself up to anyone in so long. 

“Cas, you alright?” Benny asks in his southern twang. 

Cas is broken out of his reverie and he nods.  “Yeah, fine, just thinking,” he says with a wave of his hand. 

“About Dean, I’m sure,” Andrea teases. 

Dean’s face turns red and he lightly elbows her.  “Shut it,” he mumbles. 

They order dessert, Cas opts for a slice of cheesecake, while Dean gets pie, of course, and Benny and Andrea share a banana split.  They eat in silence, and Cas watches as Benny feeds Andrea.  He and Dean stare at each other for a few beats and then they look away, both of them a little embarrassed.  Cas slowly extends his leg and lightly brushes Dean’s under the table. 

Dean coughs and continues to eat his pie, a little smile on his face.    

When they’re done, Andrea and Cas amble off to the bathroom, leaving Benny and Dean at the table. 

“So…” Benny begins. 

Dean sighs and pulls out his wallet.  “What?” he asks, even though he knows what’s coming. 

Benny clears his throat and shifts.  “So…you and Cas, huh?” he asks. 

Dean rubs his hand behind his neck and meets Benny’s piercing gaze.  “Well…we’re…working things out,” he says. 

Benny hums and puts down a fifty dollar bill on the table.  “It’s on me,” he says.

Dean rolls his eyes.  “No way, Benny, come on.”

Benny holds up a hand, effectively cutting him off.  “Seriously, it’s fine, Dean.  Listen…I don’t know what he did to you the other day, but…if he hurts you again, I won’t be treating him to lunch, just keep that in mind,” Benny says in a low voice. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Dean says dismissively.

“I’m serious, Dean. I won’t be this nice the second time around,” Benny says. 

Dean swallows thickly and nods.  “I know,” he replies quietly.  Dean watches Benny as he pays the waitress and he feels a rush of affection for the boy.  He’s been such a good friend to him, he can’t imagine what it would be like to not have him in his life.  He’s thankful for Benny and his smotherly behavior, always.  “Hey Benny?”

Benny looks up.  “Yeah?”

“Thanks,” Dean says.

Benny grins.  “For what?”

Dean shrugs.  “For being you,” he says simply. 

For the first time, Benny is the one who blushes. 

* * *

They take the long way back to Dean’s house.  They cut through the park, and Dean watches as Cas absently kicks dried leaves out of their way. 

“You didn’t have to do that, you know,” Dean says.

Cas frowns.  “Do what?” he asks. 

“Invite Benny and Andrea to our table,” Dean says.  He digs his hands deeper into his pockets to avoid the slight chill in the air. 

Cas chuckles and shrugs.  “They’re your friends.”

“Yeah but…still, you didn’t have to.”

Cas stops walking and turns to face Dean.  “But I wanted to,” he says softly.  He steps closer to Dean and leans in for a kiss. 

Dean doesn’t waste any time and closes the gap between their bodies, enjoying the feel of Cas’ lips pressed against his own.  Around them the leaves rustle in the trees and some of them flutter to the ground, adding to the piles already there, waiting to be scooped up and burned.  When they pull apart, Dean’s lips are swollen and he looks around, cheeks burning. 

“Are you being shy?” Cas teases as he leans forward to nuzzle Dean’s nose with his own. 

“A little,” Dean confesses.  He starts walking again and then stops, waiting for Cas to catch up with him.  When he does, Dean reaches out and gingerly takes Cas’ hand in his own, entwining their fingers and squeezing down on them lightly. 

Cas holds on to Dean’s hand tightly and they walk back to Dean’s house, hand in hand. 

They’re laughing about something as they walk down the tree lined block when suddenly, Dean stops.  His mouth goes dry and his heart begins to hammer wildly in his chest. 

“Dean, are you okay?” Cas asks, furrowing his brows together in concern. 

Dean lets go of Cas’ hand and walks to the edge of the sidewalk, staring at his house from across the street. 

Cas follows suit and looks up at Dean’s house, staring at the sleek, black car now parked in the driveway.  “Is your mom back?” Cas asks turning to Dean. 

Dean swallows thickly and shakes his head.  “No…that’s not her car,” he says.

Cas frowns.  “Whose car is it?” he asks.

Dean turns to him and his face is strangely pale.  “It’s…my dad’s car,” he says softly.  Dean clenches his jaw and curls his hand into a fist.  “Looks like John Winchester is home,” he says. 

Cas looks at Dean and then back over at the car.  “Shit.”


	9. Décollage

The first time he sat behind the wheel of the Impala, he had been about five years old. 

He can still remember it clearly enough, though over the years, the memory has become blurred around the edges, like an old photograph. He remembers the seat being cold against his skin, remembers what it felt like, holding on to the steering wheel, how he felt so small, swallowed up inside like Jonah in the whale. But most of all, he remembers how it smelled, a mixture of leather, whiskey and aftershave. Something that, over the years, he had come to associate with his father.

He finds him sitting on the porch. 

His father is wearing his favorite jacket, and the beat up, brown leather sits heavily on his shoulders.  John looks up and Dean immediately notices the beard, what had once been dark and nothing more than a shadow, was now thicker and peppered in with gray. 

For the first time, Dean realizes that his father is aging, and the sudden emergence of wrinkles on his face scares him. 

“Your mother changed the locks,” he says casually.

Dean swallows thickly and nods.  “Yeah, a while ago…is everything okay, Dad?” he asks, taking a hesitant step toward his father. He’s thankful for the solidity of the wooden planks beneath his feet. 

John smiles at him, one that doesn’t quite reach the corner of his eyes and he nods.  “Yeah, yeah, I’m okay, I just…I wanted to see you guys,” he says with a little shrug. He stands up and shoves his hands into his pockets.  “Where’s your mother?  And Sam?” he asks.

Dean reaches into his own pocket and pulls out his keys. “They went to Grandpa Campbell’s, they should be back tomorrow,” he replies. 

There’s a short moment of silence as Dean fiddles with the key in the lock.  He hopes his father doesn’t notice the little tremor in his hand as he struggles to unlock the door. He hasn’t seen him in so long, it almost feels like he’s talking to a ghost. 

“It’s good to see you, son,” John says softly. 

Dean turns to him and manages to put a wan smile on his face. “It’s good to see you too, dad,” he replies.  His heart is still pounding wildly in his chest and he knows it’s not a lie, he _is_ happy to see his father, he’s glad he’s alive, for one, and in one piece.  He’s heard too many horror stories of people coming back home from being stationed overseas only to realize that they had left a part of themselves out in the desert.  He doesn’t want to blame his father for his shifty behavior over the years, doesn’t want to blame him for having the option to come back home and spend time with his children and his wife but choosing not to.  He wants to believe that John Winchester is out there, doing a service for the good of them all and not just running away from his life, from his family. 

Though when he looks at his mother, bone-tired from working overnight shifts at the hospital, he finds it hard to sustain that belief.

“Coffee?” he asks his father as he walks inside.

“Sure,” John replies as he follows Dean across the threshold.

Dean walks down the short hallway and into the living room where flicks on the light.  He quickly scans the room glad that he and Cas had decided to clean up before they had left. The couch cushions are all neatly organized and he squints at it to make sure he hadn’t left any telltale signs that he hadn’t been alone all weekend.  He makes a beeline for the kitchen where he sets to work on brewing a fresh pot of coffee and busies himself with opening the cupboard to find a mug. 

His father walks into the kitchen and sits at the table, studying him quietly. 

Dean bristles as he feels his father’s eyes on him, following him around, searching for what he didn’t know. 

“How’s Sammy?” John asks. 

Dean turns on the faucet and rinses out a little green coffee cup. Of _course_ he wants to know about Sam.  “Oh, he’s fine…a pain in the butt as per usual…” he says with a clipped laugh. “When did you get back in town?”

His father smiles at him and threads his fingers together. “I’ve been around for a little while…a week or so…” he says, his voice trailing off. 

Dean feels his heart sink into his stomach.  His father has been in town for a week and he’s _just_ coming to see them? “Oh…” he says.

John sighs and lowers his head.  “Dean this is hard for me…I know it might be difficult for you to understand but…”

Dean doesn’t say anything, rather he observes his father, the slump of his shoulders, the way he hangs his head, the way he threads his fingers together, the lack of a wedding ring on his left hand.  Wait.  He squints at his father’s hands and he can see the clear imprint of a wedding band on his ring finger.  He knows his father opts to leave his wedding ring on his dog-tag chain when deployed, but usually, when he came home putting it back on it was the first thing he did.  “Did you lose your ring?” Dean asks unable to hide his curiosity.

His father looks down at his fingers and chuckles. “Oh, shit, no…I forgot to take it off my chain…” he mumbles.  He absently touches at his chest but doesn’t bother to remove the chain from where it lay hidden beneath his clothes. 

Dean feels unsettled.  He hasn’t seen his father in how many months and he hasn’t even hugged him. What’s worse is the fact that he doesn’t even _feel_ like hugging him.  When he was younger, he lived for these surprise visits.  Now they jarred him.  He felt as though someone had punched him in the gut and he was struggling to pull air into his lungs. 

“Dean?” John says looking up at him. 

Dean’s heart hammers wildly in his chest.  “Yeah dad?”

John smiles at him and nods towards the stove.  “The coffee.”

* * *

“So, how is it here with your mother?” John asks as he lifts his cup to his lips. 

They’ve migrated to the living room.  The TV is on and a football game plays softly in the background.  John has claimed the recliner and Dean sits in the corner of the other couch where he and Cas had curled up the night before. His mind runs on Cas and he can’t help but smile.  He’s glad he now has a memory of what it felt like to wake up next to him, and to be wrapped up in his arms.    

“Dean?”

Dean jumps slightly and looks over at his father who is staring at him with a curious expression on his face. 

Eventually John smiles and he points a finger at Dean. “There’s a girl, isn’t there,” he says.

Dean’s face turns red and he quickly pushes his glasses up on the bridge of his nose.  “What? No way, I don’t…I don’t have time for girls, dad,” he mumbles.

John laughs at him and nods.  “Yeah…. _right_ ,” he drawls.

Dean fiddles with a piece of thread protruding from his jeans. His mouth goes dry and suddenly he wishes he had taken Cas’ advice to simply slink back through the park and go back to his house instead. 

“Come on, the day isn’t even over…we can hang out, it’s still early,” he had pleaded. 

Eventually, Cas had stopped pestering him and had kissed him on the mouth, for much longer than necessary.  And even though Dean’s heart had been pounding with the fear of being discovered, a part of him didn’t care and he let Cas kiss him until their lips were pink and swollen.  When they pulled back, he took a deep breath and pressed his hands against Cas’ chest. 

“Call me if you need anything,” Cas said. 

“I will,” Dean replied.

“I’m serious, Dean,” Cas had said, his eyes narrowing in concern.

Dean had reached up and squeezed Cas’ cheek between his thumb and forefinger. “I know.” 

Now, with the reality of the moment hitting him in the face, he tries not to think too much about him and Cas sprawled off in his bed, or what it would feel like to have Cas’ lips pressed against his neck. His hand unconsciously moves up to his throat and he rubs it lightly. 

His father clears his throat.  “Dean…how are things here I mean…living with your mother…?” he asks. 

Dean looks up and frowns.  He can’t help but feel suspicion claw at him.  The question itself makes him feel…uncomfortable. “Things are fine, dad…why are you asking?” he asks, his curiosity getting the better of him.

John shrugs and makes a face.  “What, is it a crime to make sure my boys are getting taken care of?” he asks.

Anger flares up in his chest, and he clenches his jaw. When he thinks of everything his mother does for him and Sam, about the long hours she works on top of her taking care of them both, he feels offended that his father would even ask that question.  He also finds it strange that he would bring something like this up.  Why was his mother’s parenting ability something that needed to be questioned, and why now? 

His father was up to something, he could feel it in his bones.

“What’s your angle here, dad?” he asks quietly. In the background, a team scores a touchdown and the crowd erupts into a wild cheer. 

“My angle?” John asks, shifting in his seat.  He leans forward and places his coffee cup on the table.    

Dean sits up and squints at his father.  “I mean asking these questions about how mom takes care of us…you should _know_ how she takes care of us…don’t you guys…talk about this stuff?” he asks trying to backpedal his way out of the shit-storm that was sure to follow. 

John visibly relaxes and sinks back into the soft leather of the chair. “Dean…your mother and I…” his voice trails off and he looks down at his hand. 

Dean sees him touch the empty spot where his wedding ring usually sat and he sucked in a breath, all of the pieces suddenly falling into place.

“I should wait till she gets here,” John says, his voice suddenly weary. 

Dean’s blood runs ice cold.  “Wait for _what_ , dad?” he asks.

John falls silent and doesn’t respond.  He picks up the remote and turns up the volume on the TV, settling back into the chair and turning his attention to the game.

“Dad?” Dean echoes. 

John glances over at him, his expression unreadable. “Son…things between your mother and I—”

“Have been strained, I know…but that’s because you’ve been away.” He pauses and then it hits him. “You’re not coming back, are you?” he asks, his voice hollow. 

John lowers his head and sighs.  “I don’t feel comfortable talking about this with you. I should wait till your mother gets back,” he says. 

“You’re going to wait till she gets home to break her heart?” he asks, surprising himself.  He’s angry, angrier than he’s ever been, but challenging John Winchester? He was _asking_ for trouble. 

John’s eyes flash dangerously as he looks up at Dean. “You watch your tone, boy,” he snaps.

Dean gets up from the couch and shakes his head.

“Dean, people change, it’s a natural part of life,” John says, his voice gentler than before. 

“A natural part of life?  People at least try work their shit out, dad,” he says.

If John is bothered by his language, he doesn’t show it. Instead he turns the TV off and slowly rises from the chair.  “I have tried,” he says quietly.

“When? You…you never come home…and now you show up and you just…” his voice trails off. 

“I’m sorry you had to find out like this,” John says.

Dean feels tears sting at his eyes and he quickly blinks them away. The last thing he needs is for his father to see him cry. 

“Will you call me when they get back?” he asks. He pulls out a piece of paper from his pocket that had been folded over several times and holds it out to Dean who accepts it reluctantly.

Dean unfolds the paper, his fingers touching the worn edges. Scribbled down in his father’s familiar handwriting is a phone number. 

“That’s my new cell,” John explains. 

Silence falls between them and Dean takes a deep breath. “Why’d you even bother coming?” he asks softly.   

“To see my sons…and to speak to my wife,” he says.

Dean nods and carefully refolds the paper, taking care to follow the same crease patterns that his father had used.  When the paper has formed into a square, he slips it into his pocket.  It burns like a brand against his thigh and he shifts uncomfortably. 

“I’m gonna go.  I’ll wait for your call,” he says. 

They stare at each other for a few moments, unsure of what is taking place between them.  Dean feels himself mentally constructing yet another wall, this time, to block out his father and the unpleasant emotions that were currently churning in his mind. “Yeah,” he says eventually, unable to say much else.  He watches as John plods out of the living room and over to the hall.  He stops for a moment and turns to glance at Dean who quickly averts his gaze. 

He listens to his father’s heavy footsteps and waits to hear the door slam before he pulls out the piece of paper from his pocket and throws it on the floor.  It’s a futile gesture, but it makes him feel better.  He sinks back onto the couch, back into the corner where he and Cas had watched Indiana Jones and he wishes that he was here with him now. He watches piece of paper on the floor and pulls his knees up to his chest.  He wraps his arms around his legs and bows his head. His life feels like an equation: one thing gets added while another gets taken away. 

His heart is heavy but he can’t bring himself to cry. His father has been absent for so long, he knows it’s not going to make much of a difference at home, but he knows it’ll affect them nonetheless.  His mother, though strong, would struggle, knowing that John was no longer her husband and that she was officially on her own with the boys, Sammy would probably feel abandoned, and who knows how that would manifest as he grew older.

A part of him wonders if it’s all his fault…if this was happening because he wasn’t the son his father wanted.  He didn’t play football or baseball, he was more interested in watching Star Wars than the Super Bowl.  A thousand more thoughts crowd into his head and he closes his eyes, doing his best to block them all out.    

His phone buzzes in his pocket and when he pulls it out, he sees that it’s a text message from Cas.  He unlocks his phone and opens the message, smiling despite his anger.

**Cas** : Hope you’re okay. If u need me to kick his ass just say the word.

Dean’s fingers hover over the keyboard, wondering if he should say anything.  He chews on his bottom lip and sighs.  He wants to tell Cas everything, but he realizes that by telling him what was going on, it wouldn’t solve any of his problems. 

**Dean** : I’m fine.  See ya in school tomorrow :D

**Cas** : did u really smile that wide?

**Dean** : yes. :DD

**Cas** : lol stupid. come over. I miss u.

Dean swallows thickly against the knot forming in his throat and he smiles. 

**Dean** : it’s only been like a couple hours. you're super needy :p

**Cas** : did u just call me needy. gross. i’m about to do some painting. you should come over and watch me paint.

**Dean** : haha if I come over I’m sure you’ll just paint butts all over your canvas.

**Cas** : your butt, maybe.

Dean laughs out loud and shakes his head. 

**Dean** : cas do you ever feel like you’ll never have everything together, like ever?

He hits the send button and anxiety claws at his chest.

**Cas** : all the fucking time. u sure u okay?

**Dean** : yeah, just wondering.

**Cas** : weirdo. hold on. I’m gonna send you something.

Dean sucks in a breath and waits until his phone buzzes again. He watches as an image loads in his text message window and when he sees it he bursts out laughing.

It’s a sketch of a butt.

* * *

“Dean _Winchester_.”

Dean turns around, slowly, a grimace on his face. “Hey Cassie,” he says with a weak smile.

Cassie squints at him and shakes her head.  Her curly hair is tied up in a messy bun and she has a hand planted on her hip.  Everything about her exudes anger.   

“So.  I have to hear from _someone else_ that you had a date this weekend,” she says.

Dean laughs awkwardly and turns back to his locker. He quickly pulls out his battered up copy of _The Trial_ and he slams his locker shut.  “Um, no I didn’t have a date.”

“Don’t you dare lie to me, Dean,” she snaps.  She points a finger at him and takes a step forward, closing the gap between them.  “Some best friend _you_ are,” she growls.

“Cassie—”

“Don’t you Cassie me,” she snarls.  She presses a finger into his chest and pokes him, _hard_. 

“Ouch, Jesus Christ, you’re gonna run right through me.”

“Stop being so dramatic!”

“ _I’m_ being dramatic?” he asks, his brows lifting in disbelief. 

“Yes!”

“You’re the one causing a scene in the hallway!”

“And you’re the one who’s been dating without telling me!” she shoots back.    

“I’m not _dating_ anyone!” he says. 

“Am I interrupting something?” Cas asks dryly. 

Dean and Cassie freeze and slowly turn in Cas’ direction. Dean sucks in a breath when he sees him and has to bite the inside of his cheek to keep his mouth from dropping open. 

Cas’ eyes are ringed with dark eyeliner, somehow darker than the one he usually wore, and it makes the blueness of his eyes pop. The hoop on the corner of his lip is gone and replaced by a tiny stud, and Dean finds himself wondering how quickly he can get Cas somewhere alone so he can kiss him.  He’s dressed all in black, of course, with a sturdy looking pair of boots strapped onto his feet.  There’s a silver necklace peeking out beneath his shirt and he smirks at Dean before turning his gaze to Cassie.  “What’s this, Winchester? You’re dating someone?” he asks, feigning ignorance. 

Dean’s entire face goes scarlet and he clears his throat. “Nope.”

Cassie rolls her eyes and shakes her head.  She adjusts her backpack on her shoulder and crosses her arms over her chest.  “I’m gonna kick your _ass_ tomorrow,” she snarls. 

Dean squints at her.  “Bring it,” he says menacingly. 

“5 o’clock?” she asks.

Dean shrugs and nods.  “Sounds good to me,” he says. 

Cassie shoots him a dirty look and sends an even dirtier one in Cas’ direction.  She finally walks off leaving Dean and Cas alone. 

Cas turns to his locker and begins to fiddle with the lock. “So, did you guys just agree to duel or something?” he asks as his lock pops open. 

Dean laughs and shakes his head.  He watches Cas as he digs through his locker, searching for God knows what.  “No, we play tennis on Tuesday’s,” he explains.

Cas stops digging and turns to him.  “You…what?”

“We play tennis,” Dean repeats. 

Cas pulls out a text book and laughs.  “You play tennis, oh my God…that’s so…”

Dean rolls his eyes and flips through his book. “What? Is it not punk enough for you? I’m sorry, what would you rather me do?” he teases.

Cas pouts and shrugs.  He shuts his locker and leans in close to Dean, his breath warm against his ear.  “I dunno, I would rather maybe kiss you and give you lots of hickeys,” he whispers. 

Dean turns red again and he swats at Cas’ shoulder. “ _Inappropriate_ ,” he whispers.

Cas laughs.  “What about the little incident on your couch? Wasn’t that inappropriate?” he asks.

Dean punches him lightly on the chest and rounds on him. “That is _private_ information,” he says. 

Cas leans up against his locker and smirks.  “ _I know_ , Mona Lisa, don’t get your panties in a twist,” he says.  “Unless you’re into that kinda thing…” his voice trails off.

Dean sighs dramatically and begins to walk away from his locker.

Cas follows him and together, they walk down the hall. “So, you never told me how things went with your dad.”

Dean snorts.  After his father had left he had ended up spending the rest of the evening finishing up homework and staring blankly at the TV, dreading the moment his mother walked through the door on Monday evening.  What was he going to tell her?  How was he going to explain to her what his father had told him? He looks over at Cas and sees that the boy is staring at him intently and he quickly looks away. It’s not fair of him to unload his burden on Cas’ shoulders, he had too many problems of his own to deal with. 

“Don’t worry about it, man,” he says with a shrug.

Cas frowns and stops.  “But I _am_ worried about it. You can’t stop me from being worried about you…or caring about you.”

Dean chews on his bottom lip and briefly closes his eyes. Sometimes he can’t believe how sentimental Cas gets.  He almost wants to laugh about the whole thing, but he decides against it and decides to talk to Cas instead.  “So…I think my dad wants a divorce,” he says quietly.  He resumes his walking and Cas falls in step beside him.

“Wow.”

“Yeah…total dick, I know,” Dean says. 

Cas doesn’t say anything and they keep walking.

Dean stops in front of his English classroom and smiles sadly. “I told him that people usually try to work their shit out and…he just didn’t even care.”

“Sometimes it’s for the best,” Cas says. 

Dean looks up at him, suddenly curious.  “When did your parents separate?” he asks.

Cas smiles thinly and shoves his hands into his pockets. “I was ten.  Their relationship had been deteriorating for years…so…it wasn’t really that big of a surprise.  It was actually kind of a relief…” he says. 

“And you chose to stay with your mom?” Dean asks.

Cas chuckles bitterly.  “I need a cigarette for that conversation.  And I’m gonna be late for Chem.  Meet me on the 5th floor for lunch?” he asks with a wink.

Dean frowns.  “On the 5th floor?”

Cas chuckles.  “Yeah. You’ve never been up on the roof and you’ve been here for how long?”

Dean rolls his eyes.  “I’ve never really been into breaking locks, who told you about that place anyway?” he asks. 

“Some punk chick, I think her name was Meg,” he says with a shrug. He looks around and then leans close towards Dean’s ear.  “I want to kiss you really badly,” he whispers. 

Dean groans and pushes past him.  “See you at lunch.”

Cas laughs and walks away.  “See ya, freckles.” 

* * *

The roof is just as Dean expected: terrifying and covered in bird shit. 

“This is such a bad idea,” he says as he carefully steps over what seems to be a giant hunk of rotting wood. 

Cas is already sitting on an old crate a cigarette hanging off the edge of his lips.  He stares out at the campus, at the trees and the way they sway gently in the breeze. He squints and looks over at Dean who is still staring down at the ground below his feet.  “Dude, it’s safe, it’s _concrete_ , get over here,” he says. 

Dean grumbles something below his breath but eventually makes it over to Cas. He gingerly lowers himself down onto a crate next to him, not before checking it to make sure it was free of anything that would stain his pants.

“I made sure and got you a clean one, your highness,” Cas teases.

Dean rolls his eyes and looks out at the campus. “Shut it, you. That stuff is disgusting.”

Cas laughs dryly and blows a thin stream of smoke through his nose.

“You look like a dragon when you do that,” Dean says.

“I love dragons,” Cas murmurs as he leans forward. He slowly closes the gap between them and presses his lips against Dean’s.  Here, where it’s quiet and they’re alone, they feel safe and comfortable, and Dean doesn’t even complain about the bittersweet taste of the cigarette lingering on Cas’ mouth, he just wants to feel him, close to him, as close as they can get. 

When they finally break apart Dean hums happily. “Those taste different,” he says.

“Oh, these are cloves,” Cas says with a smile.  He offers the thin black cigarette to Dean who observes it warily.  “Come on, take a pull, it won’t kill you.”

Reluctantly, Dean accepts the cigarette.  He holds it between his fingers and puts it between his lips.  He inhales deeply and immediately starts coughing, smoke burning his throat and spilling out of his mouth. 

Cas laughs and thumps his back, taking the cigarette back. “Weakling,” he teases.

Dean coughs again and groans.  “I’ve smoked before, okay?” he grumbles as he dabs at tears pooling at the corners of his eyes. 

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have let you do that,” Cas murmurs apologetically. 

Dean laughs and shakes his head.  “No, I could have said no…I’ve always found the idea of smoking kind of romantic…but the reality is that it’s pretty gross,” he says as he wrinkles his nose.

“Hmm.  Have you ever smoked pot?” Cas asks.

Dean shakes his head.  “No.”

“Just cigarettes?”

“Yeah. Well I mean it was more like…one pull, on a dare, and…I coughed the same way,” he admits sheepishly. 

Cas laughs and takes another pull on his cigarette.

“You must think I’m lame as shit,” Dean says with a little chuckle.   

Cas turns to Dean and shakes his head.  “No, I don’t.”

They sit quietly for a few minutes, the sky above them filled with white, puffy clouds, slowly drifting toward some unknown location.

“My parents have joint custody…I just…never really wanted to spend time with my dad, and he never pushed the issue when I never showed up so…I just stayed with my mom and dealt with her shit,” Cas says softly. He squints as he looks out into the distance.  A gust of wind blows and ruffles his hair. 

“What made you decide to come now?” Dean asks. 

Cas shrugs.  “I couldn’t take it anymore.  She’s a bit of a control freak…and when I…she doesn’t like the way I look…the way I dress…the piercings, the smoking…she didn’t like the crowd I hung out with…and then one day she caught me making out with some guy and…after that, we had fights constantly…it was too much for me to handle so I packed my shit, bought a bus ticket and left.” 

“She didn’t try to come get you?” Dean asks.

Cas blows another stream of smoke through his lips and shakes his head.  “Nope. I think she felt bad or something. She deserves it.” He set his mouth in a thin line and scuffs his shoe at a spot on the ground. “Anyway, enough of my sad shit. What are you gonna tell your mom?”

Dean sighs loudly and shrugs.  “I have no fucking idea.” He extends his hand toward Cas, reaching for the cigarette. 

“You gonna try again? Take it easy this time, just a gentle pull, you don’t want to cough up a lung,” Cas says with a small smile.

Dean rolls his eyes but follows Cas’ instructions, taking a small tug on the cigarette and inhaling the smoke.  It’s sweet on his tongue and he can taste the bitterness of the tobacco in his mouth.  He still coughs, though not as much as the last time and he blows the smoke out of his mouth, a little smile on his face. 

“That’s better,” Cas says. 

“I’m scared, Cas.  I’m scared for my mom, I don’t know how she’ll take it.  Shit, I’m scared for Sammy.  He’s just a kid.  He doesn’t need this.”

“What about yourself?” Cas asks.  The question hangs between them, palpable. 

“I can handle it.  I’m just worried about _them_. I mean what am I supposed to say to her, ‘Hey mom, dad showed up yesterday, he’s been in town for a whole week and hasn’t bothered to show his face till now, oh and guess what, he also wants to get a divorce.  How was your weekend?’”

Cas bursts out laughing and reaches over to take the cigarette back from Dean’s fingers.  He takes a final pull and drops it on the floor.  He crushes the little glowing ember with his boot and grinds it into the concrete, perhaps with a little more force than necessary.  “Just tell her.  She’s gonna find out anyway.  Might as well be from you.”

Dean bristles.  “Yeah but why do I have to do his dirty work?”

Cas ponders on this for a moment and then he turns to Dean. “Just think of it as…just do it for _her_.  You love her a lot, I can tell…and…at least if she knows before he comes back…it’ll be easier for her?  I don’t know.” 

Dean scrubs a hand across his face and sighs.  He knows in his heart that he has to tell her, that letting her find out from John would be too cruel, but he dreads it. He can feel anxiety gnawing at him, tiny little threads pulling him in twenty different directions. He feels it most heavily on his chest, where it sits like an anchor, old and rusty, weighing him down. He’s a little surprised when Cas wraps an arm around his shoulder and pulls him close. 

“You’ll be fine, Dean.  And your mom will be fine.  She’s a tough lady.  She gave birth to you, didn’t she?” he asks. 

Dean smiles and leans into the touch, feeling tendrils of warmth spread in his chest.  They temporarily manage to assuage the anxiety and he closes his eyes, content with just being in this moment.  “Where did you come from, Cas?”

“And how did I get here?” he teases. 

A few more minutes pass with the two of them sitting on crates, watching the treetops sway in the breeze. 

“So tennis, huh?” Cas asks.

“Shut it.”

* * *

By the time the last bell rings, Dean is exhausted and all he wants to do is go home and collapse into his bed but he knows what’s waiting for him at home so he stalls.  He bumps into Charlie at the water fountain and she looks up at him a wry smile on her face.

“I heard you had a date this weekend,” she says, practically bouncing. 

Dean rolls his eyes and shakes his head.  “Jesus Christ, did Andrea tell the entire school?” he asks, irritated. 

She grins and shrugs.  “I don’t think she did it intentionally.  We were all chatting in home room and she told us she had a double date and she wouldn’t say with who so we kept pestering her until she told us,” Charlie says proudly. 

“Well bully for you,” he grouses. 

“So.  Who was your date, Mr. Hot Stuff?” she asks, wiggling her eyebrows. 

Dean sighs and shoves his hands into his pockets. Dean had met Charlie on the first day of freshman year.  They had been friends ever since, and she had been the first person he had confessed to about his attraction to boys _and_ girls.  “Well…do you know the new kid? Castiel?” he asks, lowering his voice. 

She makes a face and then nods.  “You mean _that_ new kid? The one walking a little too close to the creepiest of the creepy?” she asks pointing down the hall.

Dean turns around and sure enough, Castiel is rounding the corner walking very close to none other than Meg Masters, their resident troublemaker.  He feels a wave of something new wash over him… _jealousy_ , he realizes, as Meg’s shoulder touches Cas’ arm. 

“Yeah, _that_ new kid,” he says, unable to hide the disapproval in his voice.  He turns to Charlie who is studying him carefully.

“Hey, no judgments here.  I have no problems with Meg.  I just stay away from her.  Far, far away. Are they friends?” she asks.

Dean shrugs.  “Not sure.”

“Well…you’d better keep an eye on that one,” Charlie warns.

Dean swallows thickly and continues to watch the empty hallway where Cas had just been.  “Yeah,” he replies quietly. 

Anxiety blooms in his chest once more.  This time, he knows it won’t fade away.   

* * *

Cas hits the ignore button on his phone and he feels like utter shit.  He watches as Dean’s name fades away and he quickly shoves the phone back into his pocket, turning back to Meg who is observing him with dark eyes. 

“So, what’s so pressing that you had to get me up here all alone?” she asks batting her eyelashes. 

Cas feels an involuntary shiver run down his spine. Something about Meg sets his teeth on edge but he can’t figure out what it is.  “I need information,” he says. 

She frowns at him and cocks an eyebrow.  “The fuck do I look like?  Google?”

Cas reaches into his other pocket and pulls out a brand new packet of clove cigarettes.  “Interested?” he asks.  He tosses the package her way and she catches it easily. 

She observes the package squinting at the silver writing on the back.  “I’m listening, Novak,” she says without looking up.

“I need you to tell me about Alastair,” he says.

She looks up, a wry smile on her lips.  “Alastair? What for?”

Cas huffs.  “None of your business,” he says coldly. 

“You either have really big balls or you’re incredibly stupid,” she says as she gently pulls the plastic tab on the box in her hand.

He watches as she opens the cigarette box, takes one out and perches it between her lips.  She pulls out a lighter from her pocket and lights the cigarette, taking a long drag before blowing a stream of smoke in his direction. 

“Now tell me, why are you interested in him?  He’s bad news.”

“I could say the same about you,” he says.

“Ouch,” she replies with a smile.  “He’s an asshole if I’ve ever seen one.  Are you trying to get even?” she asks, running a hand through her dark hair.

Cas smiles thinly and nods.  “Something like that.”

Meg observes him for a few beats and takes another drag on her cigarette.  “What do you want to know?” she asks finally.

He grins at her and lights up his own cigarette. “Everything.”

* * *

Dean sees his mother’s car in the driveway and he stops short, his hand on the gate.  He pulls out his phone again to see if Cas has called him back and he lets out an irritated huff when he sees no missed calls or texts.  He angrily opens the gate and walks up the steps, standing on the porch for a few minutes before fishing out his keys.  When he gets inside, he can smell something delicious wafting in the air and he drops his bag on the floor, making a beeline for the kitchen. 

“Hey mom,” he says. 

Mary turns around and smiles at him.  “Hey honey, it’s so good to see you!” she says. She brings a wooden spoon up to her mouth and blows on it as she walks over to him.  “Taste test?” she asks. 

He leans forward and allows her to feed him.  “Mmm, turkey chili?”

She smiles and nods.  “Yeah, I thought you and Sam would like something nice and warm since it’s supposed to rain a bit later,” she says. 

He sits down at the kitchen table and watches his mother as she tastes the chili herself.  “It needs more salt, Dean,” she murmurs.  She opens the cupboard and takes down the salt shaker. 

“How was your weekend?” he asks.

“Oh, fine.  You know how your grandparents are, they asked about you.  Told em’ you were busy this weekend,” she says with a knowing wink.  “What about you…did you…have a good time?” she asks. 

“Yeah. It was…quiet,” he says. 

She looks up at him and bites down on her bottom lip. “Didn’t have any company over?” she asks. 

Dean feels his entire face flush and he knows he’s turning red. “Um…just Cas,” he says.

She grins at him and her entire face lights up. “I’m guessing you two made up?” she asks carefully. 

He nods.  “Yeah, we did.”

“Good. I’m glad.  I put those wrinkled clothes of his in the wash…” she says carefully.

If Dean could slap himself, he would.  He had completely forgotten about Cas’ wet clothes. He pushes his glasses up on the bridge of his nose and sighs. 

“Dean…do we have to talk about—”

“Oh, God mom, no.  He came over, it was raining so I gave him a change of clothes. That’s all,” he says.

Mary nods.  “Good.”

Dean threads his fingers together and his heart thumps painfully in his chest.  He wants to tell his mother about his father but he’s terrified.

“Dean, are you alright?” Mary asks. 

He looks up at her and nods.  “Yeah…I’m fine…I just…” his voice trails off and he takes a deep breath. 

Mary walks over to the table and pulls out a chair. “Honey you’re scaring me. What’s wrong?” she asks.

Their eyes meet and Dean can’t keep it in any longer. “Mom, it’s…it’s about dad.”

Mary shifts and stiffens in her chair.  “What is it?  Is he okay?” she asks. 

Dean swallows thickly and nods.  “Yeah, he’s fine, he’s…he’s in town,” he says.

She frowns.  “He’s here?  He’s _home_?” she asks. 

Dean nods.  “Yeah.” He pulls out the piece of paper from his pocket and hands it to her.  “He wants you to call him.  Mom…I think dad wants a divorce,” he says. 

Mary looks up at him, her brows raised high.  “What did you say hon?” she asks.

Dean sighs and looks at his mother.  “I think he wants a divorce, mom.”

Mary doesn’t reply.  Instead she continues to stare down at the piece of paper in her hands.

Dean’s heart thuds painfully in his chest and he buries his face in his hands.    

Mary reaches out and places a reassuring hand on his shoulder. She squeezes it lightly and smiles at him.  “Hey, Dean,” she says.

He looks up, his face red, tears prickling at his eyes. “I’m sorry mom,” he says.

She frowns.  “Dean this isn’t your fault, you know that, right?” she asks gently.

“Hey Dean,” Sam says from behind him.  Sam walks into the kitchen and stops short when he sees Dean’s face.  “What’s going on?” he asks. When Dean doesn’t reply, Sam looks to his mother.  “Mom?”

Mary smiles at him sadly and points to the seat across from her. “Sam, sit down. We need to talk,” she says. 

Dean looks over at his brother, his heart in his throat and he shakes his head.  “I’ll be back, bathroom,” he says, getting up.

Mary nods and Sam observes him as he trudges out of the kitchen.

He walks up the steps to the second floor and once he’s in the bathroom, he closes the door and locks it behind him.  Sinking down onto the ground, he pulls out his phone and glances at the screen. 

His heart falls when he sees that it still reads the same as before: no missed calls and no new text messages.  He takes off his glasses and presses the heels of his palms against his eyes.

It’s the only thing he can do to stop the tears from falling.


	10. Impasto

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *this chapter is nsfw

_Thwack_!

Dean wipes the back of his hand across his forehead, his heart thumping in his chest madly.

Across from him, on the other side of the court, Cassie swings her arm and grunts as her racket makes contact with the green tennis ball.  Dean watches as it sails across the net and he quickly scrambles back.  He swings his arm but misses the ball completely.  He listens as it falls onto the ground and dribbles away. 

“What’s wrong with you, Winchester?” Cassie yells from across the court.    

He rolls his eyes and waves her away before turning around to search for the ball. He spots it sitting in the corner of the court, nestled in a pile of dead leaves.  As he trots over to the ball, he stops short when he sees someone bend over and pick it up from the ground, dusting off bits of dried leaves that have clung to the fuzzy exterior.  With his heart in his throat, he slowly makes his way over to the figure in black, _Cas_.     

“Hey,” he says. His face is flushed and he feels warm despite the cool, autumn air.  His shirt is damp and sticks to his body like a second skin. He passes the back of his hand across his forehead once more, wiping away the little beats of sweat that had accumulated on his skin.  He shudders involuntarily as one lone bead of sweat runs down the back of his neck and down his shirt.   

Cas is frowning at the ball in his hand, silver rings on his fingers glinting in the setting sun. “You’ve been avoiding me,” he says plainly.  He looks up at Dean and quickly tosses the ball over to him. 

Dean catches it and squeezes down on it before bouncing it on the ground.  Almost immediately, it hops back up toward him and he catches it in his right hand.  It’s robotic, the way the ball returns to him, with no hesitation, no questions, no diversions.  He does it a couple more times before finally looking up to meet Cas’ piercing gaze. “Been busy,” he mumbles lamely.

Cas scoffs and folds his arms across his chest.  “Too busy to return my calls? You haven’t even been to your locker…” he says dryly.   

Dean bounces the ball again and listens to the satisfying crack as it makes contact with the ground.  He lowers his eyes, unable to face Cas.  He doesn’t know what to say to him.  The truth was, he _had_ been avoiding him. Ever since he had talked to his mother about his father being back in town, he found that he couldn’t bring himself to do much. The only thing that he wanted to do was this, play tennis, slam his racket into the ball and sweat until the beating of his heart drowned out the sounds of everything else rolling through his mind.  “How’d you find me?” Dean asks finally.

“Benny,” Cas says with a shrug. 

Dean snorts and shakes his head.  _Benny_.  He would deal with him later, for now, he would have to somehow figure out how to deal with Cas.  He turns around when he hears the sound of Cassie making her way over to them.  She’s squinting in the evening sun, hair tied back into a high ponytail.  She grins at him and claps him lightly on the back.  “Good game, loser,” she teases. 

Dean rolls his eyes.  “Whatever,” he grumbles. 

She laughs throatily as she tips her head back to drink some water from her bottle. “I think I’m gonna call it a day,” she says tiredly as she screws the cap back on. 

“Aw, really?” he asks.

“Yeah, I’ve got a paper to work on, plus, beating you two days in a row…getting kinda old,” she says with a shrug. 

Dean rolls his eyes and makes a face, but when she opens her arms for a hug, he returns it without hesitation. 

“ _Talk to him,_ ” she whispers into his ear.  When they pull back, she tilts her head and gives him a loaded look. She turns to Cas and smiles at him wanly. “Hey,” she says.

Cas returns the smile and nods at her.  “Hey.”

She adjusts her backpack on her shoulder and smiles at Dean before walking off the court. “See ya, Winchester!” she calls out. 

He watches her receding figure regretfully, wishing that she had decided to stay and play a little longer.  But Cassie knew him well, _too well_ , perhaps, and she knew that if she had stayed, Dean would have simply continued on with his current course of action: _maybe if I ignore this problem for long enough, it’ll go away,_ something they both knew wasn’t true. He sighs and turns to face Cas once more, his blue eyes ringed with eyeliner, looking more sorrowful than usual.   

“Did I do something wrong?” Cas asks softly. 

Dean’s heart aches painfully in his chest.  “No, Cas…I’m sorry, I just…I needed some space…” he says with a lame shrug. He doesn’t want to tell Cas about him, crying himself to sleep for the past two nights.  He doesn’t want to tell him how weak and pathetic he feels, unable to get a grip on his own emotions.  He walks over to the corner of the court where his backpack is propped up against the fence and he picks it up, swinging it onto his shoulder. He begins to walk away, expecting Cas to follow, but he doesn’t.  He remains standing there, rooted to the spot, his black clothing looking completely out of place in the bright, sunny tennis court. There’s a cigarette tucked behind his ear and he hangs his head while he chews on his lip thoughtfully.

“I must have done something wrong…” he says shaking his head. 

Dean takes a step forward and then he stops.  “Why didn’t you call me back on Monday?” he asks softly. 

Cas looks up, his brows furrowed in confusion.  “What?”

“On Monday, I called you…you never called me back,” he says, a little irritation creeping into his voice.  “And why were you with Meg?” he asks, narrowing his eyes. 

Cas opens his mouth but no sound comes out.  He looks like a fish, a strange one at that.  “I was…trying to make friends,” he says with a shrug.  “You know what it’s like here for me, Dean. I have no one and…I just thought it would be cool to…you know…meet some of the other…weirdos,” he says.

Dean regards him for a moment and then he lets out a breath of air.  “You have me…” he says softly. 

Cas’ apologetic expression is broken by the softest of smiles and he walks up to Dean, leaning forward and pressing their foreheads together.  “I know…and I’m sorry,” he whispers.

Dean looks up at him and Cas dips down for a kiss.  Their lips meld together and Cas lightly nibbles on Dean’s bottom lip.

“I’ve missed you, Dean,” Cas whispers against his mouth.

Dean lets out a soft moan.  “Missed you too, Cas,” he mumbles.  His head is a jumble of emotions.  A part of him is happy and relieved that Cas is back, that he hadn’t given up on him. Another part of him is terrified. Terrified of the rush of endorphins that comes with this kiss, scared of the things he’s feeling inside of him, of the way his skin itches, begging to be touched.  He wants Cas, he wants to feel his hands on his body, he wants Cas to kiss him in places no one else had ever touched him before. He wants Cas to love him, and he wants to love him back.  It’s a startling realization and it hits him in his gut, temporarily robbing him of his breath.  He pulls away from Cas and stares up into his eyes, feeling things that he had thought he would never feel again. 

Cas stares at him curiously.  “You okay?” he asks, his voice a low, gravelly whisper. 

Dean looks at him through his dirty glasses lenses and he nods.  “Is your dad home?” he asks. 

Cas frowns and shakes his head.  “No…he won’t be in until later tonight,” he says with a shrug. 

“Mind if I come over?” he asks with a smile. 

Cas rolls his eyes and scoffs at him.  “Do you really have to ask?”

* * *

They make it back to Cas’ house in record time, Dean kicking off his shoes in the hallway before following Cas inside.  The house is clean, but a little _too_ clean. Dean tries to put his finger on what about it bothers him and then it dawns on him that it looks almost like one of those model homes, where everything is a prop, and all of the food is made out of plastic.  It’s a sharp contrast to his own home where everything is soft and worn with use.

“Dude, has anyone ever actually sat on this couch?” he asks as he sits on the stiff cushion.

Cas shrugs and tosses him the remote before he walks down the hall and into the kitchen. “I don’t know, I’m never in the living room.”

Dean frowns and turns on the TV.  The last channel the TV had been on was CNN, and he settles back into the cushions as best as he can, watching Anderson Cooper talk about something happening somewhere in the world.  He looks worried, as always, and Dean folds his legs up on the couch, struggling to get comfortable. 

“It’s not gonna work, Dean, there’s a reason why I don’t sit down here.  Those couches are shit, my dad is a weirdo,” Cas says with a grin.  He hands Dean a glass of juice and sits down next to him. 

“Juice?” Dean asks with a little smile.

Cas rubs the back of his neck and shrugs awkwardly.  “I don’t know…you’re a guest or whatever…” he says, his face turning red.

Dean laughs and reaches forward to place the glass on a coaster.  “I don’t want juice, silly,” he says as he crawls over to Cas. He saddles himself in his lap and reaches forward, gently cupping Cas’ face in his hands. He brushes his thumbs across his cheekbones before leaning in for a kiss.  He takes the lead this time, brushing his tongue against Cas’ lips, begging for entrance into his mouth.  He tastes the lingering flavor of clove cigarettes on Cas’ tongue and he has to remind himself to breathe.  He begins to feel a little woozy as blood rushes to his cock. He’s turned on for sure, and the feeling of Cas’ hard cock pressed up against his own is doing him no favors. He pulls back, his breath hitching in his throat.

Cas looks up at him, his eyes glazed over, lips, pink and swollen.  “Dean…” he says, his voice ragged. 

Dean presses kisses along Cas’ jaw…trailing down to his neck, pausing to gently graze his teeth against the tender flesh.  He bites down lightly, sucking a mark into Cas’ skin. 

Cas gasps out as Dean marks him, and he moans softly. 

Dean moves down to another spot and sucks another rosy hickey into Cas’ skin. He wants Cas to see them, wants Cas to know that he belongs to him and no one else.  He feels something else, something burning beneath his skin and he knows what he wants.  He pulls back and stares into Cas’ eyes.  “Cas…” he says, his voice low and thrumming with need.

Cas smiles at him and gently maneuvers him onto his back.  “Is this okay?” Cas asks softly as he hovers over him.

Dean’s heart races, suddenly remembering Alastair hovering over him in the same way, but when he looks into Cas’ eyes, he knows it’s not the same.  The look on Alastair’s face all those months ago had been nothing short of predatory, this…what was happening with him and Cas was different, in Cas’ eyes, he saw nothing but love.  He nods and allows Cas to kiss him, his hand slowly drifting to the hem of his shirt and crawling up to his soft belly. He rubs it lightly, smiling when Dean giggles. 

“You’re sweaty,” Cas whispers as he presses a kiss against Dean’s stomach. 

Dean groans and entwines his fingers in Cas’ hair.  There are butterfly wings brushing against his insides, and Cas noses his way down to his cock, nuzzling it lightly and looking up at him. 

“Dean?” he whispers. 

Dean hesitates for a moment, panic crawling up to his heart and wrapping its cold, clammy fingers around it, squeezing hard.  He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes.  He knows that Cas would stop if he told him to. He opens his eyes and looks at Cas who is smiling softly at him.  He nods and smiles back. 

Cas hooks his fingers on the waistband of his shorts and slowly pulls them down.

Dean sucks in a breath when Cas presses a kiss against his cock through his underwear. He watches as he gently tugs his boxers down and finally, his cock springs free, hard and already dribbling pearls of precome at the tip. 

Cas gingerly wraps his fingers around Dean’s length and gives it an experimental stroke. He smiles when Dean moans and throws his head back.  “Dean…can I…” his voice trails off and Dean opens his eyes to look at him.

Cas is licking his lips staring expectantly of him. 

Dean’s heart is hammering so hard against his chest, it hurts.  He can feel Cas’ breath on his cock and he nods again.

Cas grins and tentatively licks the head of Dean’s cock, lapping at the precome and teasing the slit before taking more of him into his mouth. 

“ _Jesus Christ_ ,” Dean whispers as Cas takes him into his mouth. It’s _nothing_ like jerking off, and Cas’ mouth is hot and wet around his cock.  It feels like heaven, and Cas knows exactly what he’s doing.  He bobs expertly up and down on Dean’s cock, swirling his tongue in all the right places and lightly scraping at the head of his cock with his teeth, just enough to make him shiver.  “Cas…” he moans. 

Cas looks up at him and Dean almost comes right there.  His pink lips are stretched wide around Dean’s cock and it looks positively sinful. He continues to suck at Dean’s cock, his cheeks hollow as he hums around it.    

Dean balls his hands into fists, seeing stars.  “I’m close,” he mumbles. 

Cas pulls back and Dean’s cock exits his mouth with a sickening pop.  It’s slick and wet, covered in saliva and precome, and he’s so close, he knows that it won’t take much more to make him come. Cas wraps his fingers around Dean’s cock once more slowly stroking it, up and down. 

Dean braces on his elbows, feeling something curl in the pit of his stomach. It crashes over him like a wave and he shudders, his toes curling, and his mouth open wide as he comes.

Cas coaches him through it, slowly fisting his cock while come dribbles out onto his hand. “You’re okay, Dean, you’re okay,” he whispers as Dean comes. 

A dry sob escapes Dean’s throat and he covers his face with his hands. 

Cas quickly peels off his t-shirt and uses it to clean up the mess, wiping his hand and spreading the dry side under Dean’s ass to keep the couch clean.  He crawls up to Dean and pulls him into his arms. “I’m here, Dean, I’m here,” he whispers into his skin. 

Dean folds into him, overwhelmed by it all.  He doesn’t know why he’s crying, but he is.  Cas holds on to him tightly until he stops and his chest heaves as he draws in a breath. 

“Hey,” Cas whispers. 

Dean moves his hands from in front of his face and wipes his tears.  He smiles.  “Hey.”

“Are you okay?” Cas asks. 

Dean nods and huddles closer to him.  “Yeah, I…it was just…a little more than I expected it to be,” he says softly.

Silence envelopes them and then Cas stirs.  “You know what I like?” he asks.

“What?”

“Your little belly,” Cas says. 

Dean laughs. “Ew, why?”

Cas shrugs and reaches down to squeeze the soft flesh with his hand.  “I don’t know.  I think it’s cute,” he says. 

Dean rolls his eyes and yawns. 

“Oh, one orgasm and you’re all tuckered out?” Cas teases. 

“Shut up,” Dean grouses.

“Okay, grandpa. Come on, this couch is shit, let’s go up to my room,” he says.

Dean whines but allows Cas to drag him upstairs, yawning all the way.  When he gets into Cas’ room he looks around at the mess.  The last time he had been in here was the night of the fight. 

“You wanna shower?” Cas asks as he peels off his jeans. 

Dean shrugs and begins to strip.  “Sure,” he says. On the way out he pauses when he sees a stretched canvas, leaning up against the wall.  He squints at it and then turns to look at Cas. “Is that me?” he asks.

Cas flushes but nods.  “Yeah…I…started working on it after…you know,” he says. 

Dean walks over to it and picks it up.  The likeness is uncanny, and the darkness around his head and shoulders in the photo unsettles him.  It’s an inky darkness, and the only illumination is from the match held in Dean’s fingers that casts an orange glow onto his face.  “It’s beautiful, Cas,” he says reverently. 

Cas shifts, clearly uncomfortable with the praise and he walks over to the door. “Bathroom is down the hall and to the right, there are towels in there,” he says. 

Dean observes the painting for a few more seconds and then puts it down. He walks over to Cas and closes the space between them.  He threads their fingers together and squeezes down lightly on Cas’ hands. “You’re talented, Cas. You know that, right?” he asks.

Cas rolls his eyes but doesn’t let go of Dean’s hands.  “You’re such a sap,” he teases.

Dean leans forward to kiss him but he pauses and smiles.  “Yeah, and so are you.”

* * *

They spend the rest of the evening in Cas’ bed, lying next to each other, their shoulders touching, occasionally stopping to kiss and then going back to their conversation. Dean calls his mother and tells her that he’s spending the night at Cas’ house and that he’ll be home tomorrow after school.  He can practically hear Mary frowning at him from the other end but he knows that despite her reservations, she’s happy to hear the smile in his voice again, and so she relents and doesn’t make a fuss. 

“Aren’t you worried about your dad coming up here?” Dean asks.

Cas scoffs at him and shakes his head.  “No way. He hardly ever comes up on this side,” he says. 

Dean turns to him, unable to ignore the hurt in his voice.  “How come you’re not…you know…running around with a bunch of crazy kids here like you did back when you were with your mom?” he asks.   

Cas contemplates this for a moment and then he shrugs.  “I don’t know.  I guess…I got tired of it all…I mean it’s fun but…sometimes you have to slow down.”

Dean barks out a laugh and then claps a hand over his mouth. 

“What?” Cas asks.

Dean shakes his head.  “Nothing.”

“Tell me.”

Dean laughs. “Who’s the old man now? You have to slow down? Dude you’re like 16,” he says with a laugh.

Cas flushes and punches his arm lightly.  “Whatever, jerk.”

They both become silent once more.  Dean, staring up at the ceiling wondering how he ended up here, and Cas staring at Dean, wondering why he didn’t come to this shitty town sooner. 

“Do you think we would have been friends?” Cas asks.

“What do you mean?”

Cas pauses and takes a deep breath.  “You know, if I had…come here with my dad when I was younger…do you think we would have been friends?”

Dean shrugs. “I really don’t know…” he says his voice trailing off.  Dean settles into the bed, closing his eyes.  He thinks about what happened between him and Cas today.  It was a big step, for sure, but he’s not sure what they are, or where they’re going.  He licks his lips and then opens his eyes once more, his heart fluttering in his chest.  “Cas are we…boyfriends?” he asks.

Cas remains silent and then turns to him.  “Do you want us to be?” he asks.

Dean rolls onto his side and stares into Cas’ eyes.  Is he ready for this? Ready for a relationship?  Will Cas run for the hills when he sees Dean for what he really is? _Damaged goods_ …he looks down and shrugs, picking at a spot on the bed sheet.  He hates that everything boils back down to Alastair…hates that something that happened to him only about a year ago can fuck with him this much. 

“You’re thinking about him…” Cas says softly. 

Dean shakes his head and sniffs.  “I think about it all the time…like…I don’t know…every little thing reminds me of it…I…I feel broken…you know?”

Cas takes a deep breath and nods. 

“I don’t know if I want…I think you deserve better?” Dean says.

Cas frowns and pulls himself up to a sitting position.  “You think I deserve _better?_ Dean, there’s nothing wrong with you…something fucked up happened to you, yeah, but fucked up shit happens to everyone…that doesn’t mean you don’t deserve good things…”

Reluctantly, Dean sits up and rubs the back of his neck.  “But I don’t I mean…this stuff with you it’s too good to be true…I never thought I’d feel comfortable enough to do this with anyone, like ever…” his voice trails off and he looks away, feeling awkward.

“I lost my virginity when I was fourteen,” Cas says softly. 

Dean looks over at him, his brows knitted together.   

Cas clears his throat and looks down.  “I thought I was in love…he was older…I let him…I let him do whatever he wanted…it was stupid and brash…and…he convinced me to sleep with him without a condom on…” he says.

Dean swallows thickly his eyes widening.  “Cas…”

Cas looks up and Dean is surprised to see tears in his eyes.  “It was the stupidest thing I could have ever done…and for a while I was too scared to do anything, to get tested, I was ashamed,” he says with a shrug. “And then one day I just…did it…and I was fine but…I thought I had fucked up….and I did, you know? But…I don’t even know where I’m going with this, I just want you to know that…everyone fucks up, in your case, it wasn’t your fault but…don’t think that you don’t deserve good things Dean…” he says.

Dean crawls over to him and presses a soft kiss against his cheek, tasting the saltiness of a tear that had fallen.  “Cas,” he whispers.  He continues to kiss him, moving over to his mouth, gently pushing him down onto the bed and smiling against his mouth. “Cas I wanna be your boyfriend,” he whispers.

Cas looks up at him, his eyes as wide as saucers.  “Really?” he asks.

Dean smiles and pushes his glasses up on the bridge of his nose. “Really.”

* * *

The air between them feels lighter, and Dean knows why.  They’ve started airing their dirty laundry, the things they’re not proud of, the things they’ve kept locked away for so long, that made it hard to breathe.  Dean notices the way Cas has softened compared to the first time they met.  He likes the way Cas’ eyes light up when he smiles, the way he reaches out for him even when he has fallen asleep.

Dean settles into Cas’ bed, breathing in his comfortable, familiar smell.  If someone had told him two months ago that he would have been here, he would have laughed in their face and been on his way. His worries about his father are miles away, and the only thing he can think about is Cas and the little snores escaping from his mouth as he slept.  Dean holds on to him tightly and falls asleep, a soft smile on his face.

* * *

The next day in school, they show up together.  Dean is clearly wearing a shirt that is not his own, and he feels a little self conscious as they walk down the hallway, their arms brushing.

“It’s a little weirder than I anticipated it to be,” he says when they get to their lockers.

Cas frowns at him and huffs out a laugh.  “What is?” he asks as he fiddles with his lock. 

Dean shrugs and opens his locker, searching for his text book.  “I don’t know, the whole…boyfriend thing,” he says with a little smile. He pulls out his books and shuts the locker, only to find Cas leaning against his own, staring at him with a curious expression on his face. 

“And why is that?” he asks leaning forward. 

Dean blushes and pushes his glasses up on the bridge of his nose.  This scene feels all too familiar, he remembers it like it was yesterday, finding the drawing in his locker, meeting Cas for the first time.  He smiles, despite himself, and makes a face.  “Why _did_ you put that drawing in my locker?” he asks.

Cas smiles and shrugs. “I couldn’t figure out how to talk to you,” he says.

Dean squints at him.  “Why did you want to talk to _me_?”

“Because you were cute,” Cas says, moving closer. 

They’re inches away from each other at this point and attracting the attention of some of the other students in the hall.  Dean can hear the whispers and he can feel their eyes on them but for once, he doesn’t care.  He licks his lips and smiles at Cas.  “Were?” he asks.

“Are,” Cas corrects.

Dean looks into Cas’ eyes and he realizes that he’s tired.  He’s tired of hiding, tired of not reaching out and grabbing onto what he wants.  He takes a deep breath and smiles at Cas once more.  

He leans forward and he kisses him. 

* * *

While dozing off in Chemistry, Cas’ phone buzzes in his pocket.  He yawns and pulls it out, not bothering to hide his actions from anyone in the room.  He squints at his phone and sits up a little straighter when he realizes the message is from Meg. 

**Meg** : Halloween party on the 31st at Bela’s.

Cas frowns.

**Cas** : Okay. And?

**Meg** : everyone is gonna be there, dipshit. alastair included.

Cas sucks in a breath and swallows thickly. 

**Cas** : am I invited?

He watches the screen, something clawing at the inside of his stomach.

**Meg** : you can be my date. I’m dressing up as the Bride of Frankenstein.

Cas scoffs.

**Cas** : that’s okay. I already have a date. thanks for the heads up.

**Meg** : anytime.

He locks his phone and slips it back into his pocket.  He isn’t sure what he’s going to do, but he knows he’s going to do something. He rubs his chin thoughtfully and sighs. 

He can only hope that Dean will forgive him. 


	11. Patina

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *minor occurrence of bullying

Mary frowns and taps a finger on her chin absently.

She’s forgetting something, she knows she is.  With a tired sigh, she reaches into her purse and pulls out her shopping list.  She scans the items on it and mentally checks them off; glancing into the shopping cart to make sure that she had picked up everything she needed.  According to the list, she hasn’t missed anything, still, something tugs at her, and she squints, staring off into the distance trying to remember what it was.

“Honey Bunches of Oats,” she says softly to herself with a little smile.  That’s it.  Dean had asked her to get him a box of cereal.  Humming below her breath, she turns the shopping cart around to make her way back to the cereal aisle but she stops dead in her tracks.

Standing several feet away from her is her husband, John Winchester.

She hasn’t seen him in a long time and her first impulse is to smile, to abandon her shopping cart and walk over towards him so he can wrap her in his arms and kiss the top of her head like he always does.  But as she observes him, she catches herself and quickly looks away.  His shoulders are slumped and he has a basket in one hand filled with groceries.  He looks tired and even from a distance, she can make out the extra gray hairs on his head.  She wonders if perhaps she should simply turn around and leave, and her heart is thudding so painfully against her chest she has to stop and close her eyes.  She looks down at her hands and studies her wedding ring. It sits heavily on her finger and she contemplates removing it.  Dean had said that John hadn’t been wearing his.     

Slowly, she wills herself to move forward.  She pushes her cart and watches as it smoothly glides across the shiny floor.  She wants to be mad at him, and a big part of her is, but another part of her, the part that had fallen in love with him all those years ago is tugging at her, even though she knows it’s a lost cause.  She stops beside him and clears her throat, waiting for him to notice her.

When he turns to her, he nearly drops the apple in his hand and he fumbles with it for a moment before letting it fall into his red basket.  “Mary,” he says almost reverently.

She smiles wanly at him.  “John.”

He puts down his basket and walks over to her.

She can see tears in his eyes and she swallows thickly against a lump forming in her throat.  She can’t turn it off, she can’t turn off how she feels about him, despite all of the bullshit and how big of an asshole he could be, she knows that deep down, a part of her will always love a part of him.  She allows him to wrap her in his arms and she feels when he kisses the top of her head, just like he used to every time he came back from being away.  She smells the familiar, comforting scent of his leather jacket, his cologne, and she has to bite the inside of her cheek to keep the tears from falling.  How was this fair?  How could she have not had him with her for so long, only to have him leave her now that he was back?  It made no sense.  She pulls back and delicately dabs at the corners of her eyes.  When she looks up at him, she sees that he too is wiping away tears.

“You look good,” he says with a soft smile.

She rolls her eyes and sniffs.  “Can’t say the same for you,” she teases.

He smiles, and for a moment, everything is okay.  For a moment her heart isn’t breaking and her husband is back home.  She smiles back at him but as he lifts his hand to scrub it across his face she freezes.  His wedding band is no longer on his finger.  Unconsciously, she rubs the back of her own ring with her thumb, wishing that she had taken her own off when she had the chance.  The reality of the situation dawns on her and she steps back, turning off her charm and her sweet smiles.  It made no sense to be overly sweet to him.  She would get nothing out of it.

“Have you…did Dean tell you that I stopped by?” he asks.

She nods and looks down at her grocery cart.  “Yes, he did.”

“What did he say to you?” John asks.

Mary presses her lips into a thin line and slowly begins to move her cart.  Anger suddenly blooms in her chest as she continues to walk.  This isn’t the man she knew, the man she loved.  This isn’t the same John Winchester who had courted her for months before they had actually gone out on a date, who had asked her father for her hand in marriage.  No.  This John Winchester was someone else entirely.  He had been changed, a distorted version of himself.  She makes her way over to the cereal aisle, aware of his presence.  He doesn’t say anything to her and she makes no moves to say anything to him.

“He still eats that stuff?” he asks as she picks out a box of Honey Bunches of Oats.

“Yes he does,” she replies with a smile.

Silence falls between them and she puts the box into the cart on top of the rest of her groceries.  She begins to move again, this time toward the front of the supermarket so she can pay for her things.

“Mary, we really need to talk.”

She stops pushing the cart and squeezes down onto the handle.  She can hear the blood rushing in her ears and she rounds on him, her voice low.  “About what, John?  About you being in town for a week and not coming home?  Or maybe about you passing messages to me through our son?  Do you know what that did to him?  The weight you put on his shoulders, John.  How could you?” she spits.

John sighs and puts down his basket onto the floor.  “I didn’t want to do it that way, you gotta believe me.”

“Why the hell should I believe you?” she asks bitterly.  Her eyes flash dangerously as she observes him.

John opens his mouth and then he closes it again.  He shrugs his large shoulders and then shakes his head.  “You’re right.  I shouldn’t have done it.  And I’m sorry. You weren’t there, what was I supposed to do?”

“You could have waited.  You could have called me, I would have…instead you pass notes to me through a sixteen year old boy like you’re in fucking high school,” she says, unable to keep the obscenity from slipping out of her mouth.  She’s angry now, she can feel it, heat rising in her blood, her stomach in knots.  It’s not fair that he gets to do this to her, that he gets to come back with his blubbering apologies and hope that everything will be okay, that she’ll smile up at him and nod and just go along with everything he said like some kind of idiot.

“Mary,” he says, his voice dangerously low.

She smirks at him and shakes her head.  “Don’t think that because you’re a soldier that you can come back here and boss me around.  That never happened, and it never will.  You of all people should know that,” she says.

John visibly winces and he hangs his head in shame.  “I’m sorry.”

Her lip trembles and she looks away.  She can’t look at him, if she does, she knows that she’ll burst into tears, more out of frustration than anything else.  “I don’t know what’s going on with you…I really don’t.”

John picks up his little red basket and he nods.  “This isn’t the place for this conversation,” he says quietly.

“You’re damned right it’s not,” she snaps.  She looks over at him and then she sighs.  Sam and Dean won’t be home from school for another couple hours, and she has more than enough time to get started on dinner.  “I’m gonna pay for my things, maybe you can meet me at the diner across the street when you’re done,” she says stiffly.

He breaks into a smile and relief floods his face.  He relaxes, finally and nods.  “Okay.  At least let me get the groceries,” he says gesturing towards the cart.

She makes a face at him.  “It’s fine, really.  I can afford to get groceries for my children,” she says before walking away.

She leaves him standing in the middle of the cereal aisle, one hand curled around the silver handles of his basket, the other, running through his hair.  A nervous tick, one that she knows all too well.

There’s something that John Winchester isn’t telling her and she intends to find out exactly what it is.

* * *

 Sam picks at his peanut butter and jelly sandwich, throwing bits and pieces of bread across the table onto Jess’ lunch tray.

“Sam stop that,” Jess says, her eyes narrowing.

Sam giggles and then snorts, and continues to toss the bits of bread toward her.

“Sam Winchester.  What in the world is wrong with you? I thought you like PB&J?” she asks.

Sam inhales deeply and then sighs.  “I think my parents are getting divorced.”

Jess freezes, her spoon stopping halfway to her mouth.  “What?” she asks.  “When? Why?”

Sam shrugs and stops picking at the sandwich.  He picks up his yogurt instead and peels the foil back, peering inside.  “Apparently my dad showed up a couple weeks ago.  When my mom and I went to my grandpa’s.”

“Okay…”

“Dean was home and…I guess he made it kinda clear that him and mom were…you know, not working,” Sam says.

Jess puts her spoon down and frowns.  “I’m so sorry, Sam.  Why didn’t you say something earlier?” she asks.

He shakes his head and his hair bristles around him.  “I don’t know.  I guess…I kinda knew it was gonna happen.  I just…didn’t want to believe it.”

Jess picks up her spoon once more and dips it into her chocolate pudding.  “You know, my parents got divorced when I was five,” she says.

Sam frowns at her.  “I know that.”

She rolls her eyes and picks up some of the bread scraps to toss at him.  Immediately, he puts his hands up to block the attack but he doesn’t feel anything.  When he lowers his hands, she grins at him and throws all of the crumbs at his face.  “Don’t be a butt hole.”

“I’m not, I was just saying that I knew.”

“I know, I was just trying to tell you that…you’ve been living with your mom and Dean for so long that if your dad officially leaves, it won’t be that much of a difference, will it?  I mean, I was young so…it doesn’t really bother me, and I don’t think it’ll bother you as much as you think it will.”

Sam stares at her.  He and Jess have been friends for a while, and he likes her better than all the other girls, mainly because she always says what’s on her mind.  She never sugarcoats things, never tries to be something she’s not.  He finds it refreshing that he can talk to her about things like this, that he can play video games with her for hours without things getting weird, though, lately, if he was going to be completely honest with himself, things were getting kind of weird.  He often caught himself staring at her when he should be taking notes in class, wondering what it would be like to kiss her, maybe.

“Sam.  Earth to Sam.”

Sam blinks and flushes.  He really needs to get a grip on himself.  “Sorry, zoned off there,” he says with a grin.

“Are your dimples getting deeper?” she asks squinting and leaning forward.

“What?” he asks.  He quickly slaps a hand over his mouth, effectively covering his dimpled cheeks.

She laughs and reaches forward, prying his hand off his face.  “They are!” she says with a laugh.

He feels heat blooming on his face and he knows he must be as red as a tomato.  Jess is still holding his hand and he quickly glances down at it.  It’s weird.  So weird. They’re holding hands.  He’s not even sure what’s happening.  His heart is pounding so hard against his chest he has to close his eyes and take a deep breath.

“Sam. Sam we’ve gotta go to class. Wake up sleepy head,” she says gently.

He opens his eyes and sees that she has let go of his hand and she’s packing away her things getting ready to leave the lunch room.  He quickly gets his things together and swings his backpack onto his shoulder.  He picks up his tray and together they dispose of their trash and put the trays back onto the racks.  On their way out, their hands brush and they both look at each other.

“Sammy!”

Sam looks up and grins widely when he sees Dean walking in with Cas.  The two of them are holding hands and he can’t help but feel his heart soar in his chest. “Hey, jerk,” Sam says with a grin.

“Hey Jess,” Dean says.

Jess grins at him.  “Hey Dean.”

There’s an awkward moment where none of them say anything and then Cas coughs lightly.

“Jess, this is…Cas…my boyfriend,” Dean says.  He lowers his gaze and a blush steals across his cheeks.

Jess giggles and moves closer to Sam, their arms brushing.  “Wow.  Cool.  Nice to meet you, I’m…Jess.  I play video games with Sam and I kick his ass, constantly,” she says with a very serious expression on her face.

Cas laughs and it startles them all.

Dean looks at Sam and they both look at Jess who is looking at Cas, an amused expression on her face.

Cas continues to laugh and scrubs a hand across his face.  “Wow, she’s a keeper, Sam,” he says with a wink.

With that, Sam blushes furiously and looks at Jess. “Oh we’re not, she’s not…my um…”

“Your girlfriend?” Jess asks, unfazed.  She looks up at Cas and laughs.  “Man, these Winchesters sure do blush a lot,” she says.

Cas snorts.  “Tell me about it.”

“Alright, this is not the diss Sam and Dean Winchester show.  Don’t you have a class to get to, squirt?” Dean asks, narrowing his eyes at Sam.

Sam bristles and rolls his eyes.  “Sure thing, boss,” he gripes.

Dean reaches forward and ruffles Sam’s hair.

“Cut it out!” Sam says as he begins to walk away.

Dean and Jess look at each other and begin to laugh.

“See you guys later,” she says as she jogs off to catch up with Sam.       

Dean sighs loudly and turns to Cas.  “So.  You think she’s a keeper?”

“She’s seems…sweet,” Cas says with a shrug.  He grins at Dean and sticks his tongue out, fiddling with his lip ring.

Dean studies him for a moment and then smiles.  “Yeah, she’s pretty great.”  He falls silent, looks down, and then looks over at Cas. “I think I want a piercing.”

Cas coughs and stumbles back, dropping Dean’s hand.  “Come again?”

“A piercing.  I think it would be cool,” Dean says as he adjusts his bag on his shoulder.

“Really? That doesn’t sound very…you,” Cas says frowning at him.

Dean makes a face.  How can Cas say something like that?  How can he make that kind of decision for him?  “That’s not fair.  If I want a piercing, it’s because I want one…who’s to say that something like that isn’t me?” he asks.  He steps back and folds his arms over his chest.

Cas shrugs.  “I don’t know.  You’re into comic books and shit.  It just…doesn’t seem like you, that’s all.  Can we eat lunch now?”

“No we cannot just eat our lunch, Cas, come on.”

Cas sighs and sticks his hands into his pockets.  “Okay.  You’re right, I’m sorry.  I just don’t want you to think that I want you to change or anything…I mean…I know I smoke and I have piercings and stuff but…you don’t need to do those things for me to like you.”

Dean chews on his bottom lip.  He hadn’t thought of that.  He didn’t realize that what he was doing, opening himself up more to Cas, could look like him trying to change himself somehow.  He grins and shakes his head.  “That’s not what I’m doing Cas, I can see how it looks that way, but I’m not.  I’m open to trying new things, I always have been…I just…you make me want to try things, and that’s good,” he says.  

Cas laughs softly and wrinkles his nose.  “Why do we sound like a 50 year old couple?” he teases.

“I know, we’ve only been dating for a couple weeks,” Dean says with a blush.  “So what do you think I should get?” he asks as they begin to walk toward the cafeteria entrance.

Cas rubs his chin thoughtfully.  “Hmm.  How about a tongue ring?” he asks with a wicked smile.

Dean reaches out and punches his shoulder lightly.  “Pervert!”

Cas laughs.  “You asked!”

Dean squints at him and looks at him out of the corners of his eyes.  “Yeah, yeah, okay.  Maybe,” he says with a wry grin.

Cas reaches for his hand and laughs once more.  Smiling, they walk into the cafeteria.

* * *

Mary wraps her fingers around a cup of coffee and looks out the window.  Warmth seeps from it into her hand and she sighs happily.  John is in the bathroom, but there’s another cup of coffee sitting across from her, smoke gently curling from the lip and fading in the air.  The waitress passes by again and beams at her.

“Mrs. Winchester, would you like to order something to eat?” she asks.

Mary glances over at the menu and shakes her head. “No thanks, honey I don’t think we’re gonna be that long,” she says.  “Maybe John will get something when he gets back.”

The girl nods and smiles as she walks away.

Mary looks down into her coffee cup and sighs.  The words Mrs. Winchester ring in her ears.  In this town, she’ll always be Mrs. Winchester, she knows that for a fact.  She lifts the cup to her lips and takes a measured sip, thankful for its comforting warmth.  She finds herself thinking back to her first date with John.  It had been at a diner, just like this one, and they had sat across from each other, awkwardly stealing glances at each other, blushing when their legs touched beneath the table, or if they caught each other’s eye.  It all seems so long ago, a completely different lifetime.  They had both been so young then, her biggest worry had been wondering if he was going to kiss her that night, and his biggest worry had been whether she would let him.

John returns back to their table and he slides into the booth.  Neither of them say anything for a few moments, and finally, Mary stirs.    

“What happened to us, John?” she asks softly.  “We were so in love,” she says, a faraway look in her eyes.

John takes a sip of his coffee and makes a face.  It’s a strong brew and it wakes him up.  He finally realizes where he is, sitting in front of his wife, discussing their failed marriage.  “Life, I guess,” he says with a shrug.

“Who is she?” Mary asks, looking up at him.

John blinks.  “What?”

“Don’t play coy with me.  I know there’s someone else.  There has to be.”

John picks up a spoon that has been lying on a napkin and he fiddles with it nervously.  He looks at Mary and then he looks away, ashamed.  “Her name’s Kate, she lives a couple towns over…” he says.

Mary’s grip around her mug tightens but she doesn’t respond.

“We met…um…five years ago,” John says, his voice low.

Mary looks up at him, unable to hide the look of shock spreading across her face.  “Five years?” she asks in a fierce whisper.  She’s so disgusted she can’t even look at him.  Five whole years.  He’s been sleeping with another woman for five years.  Her hand trembles and she stands up so quickly, she almost knocks over her cup of coffee.

“Mary, wait…listen…please.  That was a one time thing.  It was an accident.  I came home and…I was at the hospital to get my fracture checked out and…it just kind of happened,” he explains.

Mary stares at him.  “You’re telling me that you’ve been unfaithful for five years,” she says in a quiet voice.

“Mary, please sit.  I didn’t see her after that for a couple years…” he says.

Something clicks in her brain and suddenly, it makes sense.  She understands what has changed, why things are different, and why he’s so eager to let her go.  Slowly, she sinks back down into the booth and stares at him, her eyes boring into his skull.  She hopes he’s feeling as uncomfortable as he looks.  “You have a child.”

John nods and then he looks down at his hands.  “Yes.  A boy.  His name is Adam.”

Something cold curls in the pit of her stomach and she’s not sure how much more of this she can take.

“Look, I didn’t know, ok?  I didn’t know until he was four…I’ve been…she contacted me.   He was sick he needed a blood transplant and I gave it to him. Ever since then I’ve been spending more time with him while he recovered and I just…I don’t know, Mary.  I feel like I don’t fit with you guys anymore,” he says.   

Mary contemplates this but does not respond.

“I don’t know how to connect with Sam and Dean…and with you…it’s just…it feels like a strain.  And I know that’s my fault, but…when I think about coming back home I don’t…I’m not…” his voice trails off and he hangs his head.

Mary scoffs at him.  “Am I supposed to feel sorry for you?” she asks bitterly.

John looks up at her, a sorrowful expression on his face.  “I didn’t want to hurt you.”

Mary smiles thinly.  “You already did.”

They lapse into a brooding silence once more, Mary staring down into her coffee cup, John staring out the window.  She’s so close to him, she could reach out and touch him without any effort, yet still, they are oceans apart.

The waitress returns, but when she sees their faces, she walks right past them.

“So…you can’t connect with us anymore and your first response is to…not even try? You’re just gonna…give up?” her voice trails off and she blinks back several tears that have crept into her eyes.  She picks up her coffee and takes a quick sip.

“I love you…and I love our children, I really do…but—”

Mary chuckles and cuts him off.  “There’s always a but, isn’t there?  You know what John? We’ve been good, Sam, Dean and I.  We’ve been good without you.  Were there days when I wished you were home? God yes.  I’ve missed you…so much.  And so did Dean, and Sam.  They missed their father, but they got used to living without him.”  She pauses and turns to look out the window, carefully choosing her words.  “Just remember you’re not just divorcing me, John.  You’re divorcing yourself from this family.”

The words hit John like a slap to the face and he looks up at her, eyes wide.  “Mary.”

“You can come over this weekend. Maybe on Sunday, after lunch.  You can tell the boys what’s going on.  You can tell them your side, because I sure as hell won’t do your dirty work for you,” she says evenly.  A part of her is amazed that she’s managed to keep a straight face through all of this.  Her head is miraculously clear, and even though she’s angry, she keeps pushing it down, pushing it away.  She knows anger won’t help in this situation.  It would only make things worse.  She opens her purse and begins to search for money to pay for her coffee.

“It’s fine, I’ve got it,” he says.

Reluctantly she stops and she stares at him for a few more beats.  “Goodbye, John,” she says softly as she slides out of the booth.  She walks straight out of the diner and doesn’t look back.  She walks up to her car, unlocks the door and climbs inside.

It’s only when she’s finally out on the main road, she lets herself cry.

* * *

 Dean takes a large bite of his burger and hums happily.

Next to him, Cas takes a smaller bite and makes a face. “Bleh, school lunch,” he murmurs as he puts his burger down.

“It’s not that bad,” Dean says through a mouthful of burger.

Cas cocks his eyebrow and glances at him.  “We really need to get your taste buds checked out,” he teases.

The cafeteria is not crowded today, most of the students in their grade now have the option to leave campus for lunch, and most of them take advantage of the time to go get better things to eat than what they served in the cafeteria.

Dean scans the room, searching for Alastair, more out of habit than anything else.  He tenses up for a moment when a group of seniors walk into the cafeteria.  His heart races when he sees them, and he lets out a sigh of relief when he realizes that Alastair is not with them.  One of Alastair’s good friends is there though, Gordon Walker.  He’s tall, and well built for a senior, just like Alastair.  Dean figures it’s from all the time they spent playing rugby.  He shudders involuntarily and quickly turns his attention back on his food.

A moment passes, and then a shadow falls over him.  He looks up and his heart pounds in his chest.  It’s Gordon.

Gordon smiles at him and Cas, a large, wide, mocking smile.  “How cute,” he rumbles.

Cas frowns and glances over at Dean whose face has gone white as a sheet.  “Dean?” he whispers.

Dean licks his lips but doesn’t look at Cas, instead his eyebrows knit together angrily.  “The hell do you want, Gordon?” he asks, finding his voice.

Gordon snorts.  “Tell me, which one of you is the boy and which one of you is the girl?” he asks.   

“Neither of us, obviously,” Dean snaps.

Gordon chuckles. “One of you has got to be wearing panties though,” he says.

“Why don’t you fuck off, man?” Cas asks angrily.

“Tell me, were you born this way, Gordon?” someone asks off to the side.

The three of them turn their heads and Dean rolls his eyes when he realizes who it is: Ruby.  She smiles up at him, her dark eyes shining like liquid.

Gordon’s own smile falters and he takes a step back.  “Ruby,” he says softly.

“Why don’t you get lost, loser?” she asks.  She takes a step forward and snickers when Gordon shakes his head and walks away.

Dean and Cas watch as Gordon slinks back to his group of friends who have claimed a table on the other side of the cafeteria.  

Ruby runs her fingers through her hair and sits down across from them, reaching forward to grab a handful of Dean’s fries.  “Hey, Winchester,” she says, her mouth full of French fries.

Cas watches her, both amazed and amused.  “That big guy is scared of you?” he asks in disbelief.  

She grins and shrugs.  “What can I say, I have that effect,” she says with a wide smile.

Dean rolls his eyes and pulls his tray back, effectively cutting her off from his fries.  “She’s lying.  Her father is his father’s boss.  They won’t ever touch a hair on her pretty little head because they know that their livelihoods are on the line if they do so,” he explains.  

Cas observes her and makes a face.  “What does your dad do?” he asks, intrigued.

“He’s the Chief of Police, so don’t get on my bad side, okay?  You’re Novak, right?” she asks as she pulls her phone out of her pocket.  She reaches forward and pulls Dean’s tray over to her.

He sputters indignantly and watches as she stuffs another handful of fries into her mouth.  “That’s my food,” he says as he pushes his glasses up on the bridge of his nose.

Ruby makes a face at him.  “So?” she asks.  She turns back to Cas.  “Anyway.  Novak. I’m organizing the little shindig at Bela’s on the 31st.  Meg told me that you were coming.” She pauses and turns to Dean. “She also told me that you were bringing a date.”

Dean frowns and he turns to Cas.  “You’re going to Bela’s Halloween party?” he asks softly.

Cas’ face falters and he shrugs.  “Yeah I thought…” his voice trails off and he looks down at his tray.

Dean’s face is suddenly hot and he curls his hand into a fist.  He doesn’t know what to feel, doesn’t know what to do, and so he does the only thing he can think of, he runs.  He picks up his bag and swings it over his shoulder and quickly scrambles out of his seat.

“Dean!” Cas calls.    

Dean doesn’t stop, he doesn’t turn around, he simply keeps walking.  Tears prickle at his eyes and he knows people are staring at him but he doesn’t care.  He has to get out of the cafeteria, away from all of them, away from Cas.

Back in the cafeteria, Cas is picking up their trays and throwing the left over’s into the garbage.

Ruby follows him a curious expression on her face.  “Why aren’t you running after him?” she asks.

Cas places the empty trays on the rack and glances at her.  “I’m coming to the party,” he says.

Ruby cocks an eyebrow.  “Without your boyfriend?” she asks with a coy smile.

Cas takes a deep breath and smiles at her.  “Yes.  Without my boyfriend.  Now if you would excuse me, I have to go find him now,” he says before walking off.

“Good luck, Novak,” she says with a grin.

Cas doesn’t respond, instead, he pulls out his phone to call Dean but then he stops.

He already knows where he’ll find him.

* * *

Dean sits down on a rickety old crate and takes a deep breath.  In his anger, the roof had seemed like a good idea.  Now that he was up here, he realizes that he was right.

The air is cooler up here, and the wind rustles in the trees.  He closes his eyes and he listens to them, wishing he could understand what they were saying.  In his haste, he had forgotten his jacket in the cafeteria.  He regrets it now, and he rubs his arms, a futile movement, as it does nothing to warm him up. He stiffens when he feels something being draped across his shoulders.  He doesn’t have to look to see who it is, he already knows it’s Cas.  Who else would it be?

“Dean, I’m sorry,” Cas says.   

Dean doesn’t say anything, rather, he lets the wind and the leaves do his talking for him.  He squints in the sunlight and looks down at the quad.

“I should have…told you,” Cas says quietly.

Dean shifts but still doesn’t respond.

“I’m sorry if I was being insensitive, I didn’t think,” he says.

Dean pulls his jacket closer and slips his arms into the sleeves.  He hangs his head and studies his shoes.  He wonders if this is going to be his life, if he’s going to spend the rest of his days feeling angry at other people for what happened to him.  He wants to be angry with Cas, God knows he does, but the only person he should be mad at is Alastair.  He hears the crunching of Cas’ shoes against the ground and he glances over at him.

“I’ll let you…” his voice trails off.

“Cas, wait,” Dean says softly.  He turns back to his original position, facing outward, looking at the treetops.  “Sit down, please,” he says.

Cas seems to be a little startled, but he goes back to his seat and he sits down.

Dean thinks of his parents.  He tries to go back to a time when they had been so in love with one another.  He remembers his father coming home, hugging his mother tight, hugging him and Sam.  He remembers the love, that feeling of it vibrating in the air, the tightness in his chest when he was finally able to sit next to his father and watch cartoons, or talk to him about something pointless.  He thinks about his father now, about how terribly awkward it felt to be in his company, of how distant he was.  His biggest problem with his father was that he didn’t try.  He simply gave up on them, like they didn’t mean anything to him.  He looks over at Cas’ profile and he can’t help but smile.

Cas means something to him.  Cas fucked up, yes, but he wasn’t going to shove him away, he was going to talk to him about it, and see if they could figure things out.

He was going to give him a chance.

“I think you know why I’m upset,” Dean begins.

Cas nods and clasps his hands together but he doesn’t say anything.

“I just want to know why you thought I’d...want to go to that...especially when you know...” Dean says, his voice trailing off.  

Cas looks over at him.  He fiddles nervously with his lip ring. A part of him wants to tell Dean that his plan was to somehow get back at Alastair at the Halloween party, that he was going to make him pay for what he had done to Dean, but another part of him, the rational part, knew that if he said anything like that, Dean would be done with him for good.  In all honesty, he didn’t know that it had been Bela’s party where Alastair had done what he had did to him.  He glances over at Dean once more and wonders if maybe he was making a mistake.  Dean didn’t need him to fight his battles for him.  He sighs and scrubs a hand across his face.  “I didn’t know it was…the same…party,” he says finally.  “I thought it would have been nice for us to go to…you know, some kind of event but…that was a bad call on my part.”

Dean visibly relaxes and nods.  “Look I can’t stop you from going.  If you want to go…you can…that’s…that’s your choice.  But I won’t be going, for obvious reasons…” he says softly.

Cas nods and reaches over for his hand.  They thread their fingers together and sit quietly for a few moments.  A bird flies over their heads and disappears into one of the trees.  He feels like shit for upsetting Dean.  Instead of bringing Dean good things, he’s making him hurt, he’s making him anxious and think about things that he had been working on forgetting.  

“Dean...are we doing the right thing?” he asks quietly.  

“What do you mean?” Dean asks.  

Cas squeezes down on his hand and smiles.  “I mean...me and you...doing this...whatever it is that we’re doing...being together…” he says.  

Dean turns to him and reaches out to curl his fingers behind Cas’ neck.  He pulls him forward and kisses him, gently running his fingers through Cas’ hair, lightly scratching at his scalp.  

Cas moans softly and smiles against Dean’s mouth.  

When they pull away, they stare at each other for a few moments.  Dean’s glasses are fogged up and Cas reaches forward to remove them from his face.  

Dean stares into Cas’ blue eyes and smiles.  “Yes, this is the right thing,” he says softly.  He searches for Cas’ hand once more and holds on to it tightly.  

He promises to himself that he will not let go.  

* * *

Later that evening, Dean is startled by a soft knock on his door.  He pushes his glasses up on the bridge of his nose and when he looks over, he realizes that his mother is standing in the doorway, holding a mug of something in her hands.  He smiles at her and puts down his pencil, content to ignore his homework for a while.  

“Hey mom,” he says.

She smiles at him and walks into the room.  “Hey hon.  Made you some hot chocolate,” she says as she places the mug on his desk.

Dean picks it up and takes a sip.  It’s sweet and warm and he smiles when his mother tenderly brushes his hair with her fingertips.  

“I saw your father today,” she says softly.  

Dean looks up at her.  “What happened?” he asks.     

She sighs and walks over to his bed.  “Dean, you’ve really got to clean up in here,” she says as she looks around.

“Mom.  What happened with dad?” he presses.

Mary looks down and shakes her head.  She opens her mouth to start talking, but when she looks up she stops.

Sam is standing in the doorway.  He looks at Dean and then he looks at his mother before walking into the room.  He sits next to Mary and reaches out to cover her hand with his own.   

“Boys I’ve invited your father to come over after lunch on Sunday.  I want him to speak to you both…face to face,” she says.

“Mom? Do you think you guys are gonna get a divorce?” Sam asks in a small voice.

Silence hangs in the room and they all observe each other quietly.  Mary reaches over and wraps an arm around Sam’s shoulder, pulling him close.  She kisses the top of his forehead and blinks back tears.  “I think so, sweetie,” she says.

Sam allows his mother to hold on to him for a little while.  He gently untangles himself from her and gets up.

Dean watches him, confused.

Sam leans in and hugs his mother tightly, squeezing his eyes shut as he does so.

Mary smiles and hugs him back, a little surprised by the sudden display of affection.  Eventually, he pulls back and sits back down next to her.   

“Are you both okay with your father coming here on Sunday?” she asks.

Dean and Sam look at each other and they both nod.  “Yeah,” Dean replies.

“Good,” Mary says.  She gets up and ruffles Sam’s hair before walking over to the door.  “I’m gonna hit the hay.  I’ve got an early day tomorrow., I switched shifts with Ellen at the hospital.  Dean will you make your brother breakfast in the morning?” she asks with a yawn.  As she passes by Dean, she stops and kisses him on the forehead.  “Goodnight, don’t stay up too late you two,” she says as she walks out of the room.

They both wait until their mother has gone into her room and has closed the door.  Sam sighs loudly and sprawls out on Dean’s bed.  “What do you think dad’s gonna say?” he asks as he looks up at the ceiling.  

Dean shrugs and turns back to his homework.  “I don’t know man.  I wish...I wish I knew.”

“How did he look, when you saw him?” Sam asks.  He has been avoiding asking Dean about it, thinking that by him ignoring it, would make it go away, but apparently he was wrong.  

“Tired.  Older…cranky,” Dean says with a small smile.  He turns around once more to look at Sam.  

“Are you gonna tell mom about Cas?” Sam asks.  

Dean shakes his head.  “I will...eventually...I just...what about you and Jess, what’s going on there?” Dean asks with a grin.

Sam blushes and rolls his eyes.  “You’re changing the subject!”

“No I’m not! Look, I will  talk to mom eventually about Cas, okay? She has a lot on her plate right now.  Now you and Jess.  Spill.”

Sam huffs and then rolls onto his side.  “I think...I think I like her. Like, like her, like her.”

Dean chuckles.  “Do you think she likes you?”

Sam shrugs and swings his legs off the side of the bed.  “Maybe.”

“You should ask her out.  Take her to the movies or something,” Dean suggests.  

“Is that how you got Cas to be your boyfriend?” Sam teases.  

“Get out of here, nerd,” Dean says.  

Sam laughs as he walks out of the room.  “I’ll take pancakes in the morning,” he shouts as he walks down the hall.  

“Yeah, okay,” Dean grumbles.  He turns back to his homework with a resigned sigh and picks up his pencil once more.  He glances at the calendar on his wall and feels something flutter in his chest as his eyes land on October 31st.  In about a week, it’ll be Halloween again.  It’ll make it a year, officially, since the incident.  He’s not sure how to feel about it.  On one hand, he’s in a much better place now, compared to where he had been.  On the other hand, there’s Cas.  Cas who brings so much light and warmth to him and yet, still, who didn’t understand Dean as well as he thought he did.  He picks up his phone and contemplates calling him, just to hear his voice and see what he’s doing but he decides against it.  He puts his phone down and flips it over, choosing to finish his homework instead.  

* * *

As much as he doesn't want to admit it, he’s lonely.  

He often enjoys solitude, and doesn't mind spending time alone.  He finds it comforting, especially when he’s painting or working on something, the silence that wraps itself around him, like a velvet glove.  Yet today, being alone in his room, working on yet another painting while a cigarette hangs off the corner of his lips, he can’t help but feel a strange sense of loss weighing heavily on his chest.  The house is empty, his father had called and told him that he would be working late at the office and then he would be having dinner with some clients.  Cas didn’t know why it bothered him so much in this moment that his father wasn’t home.  They never really talked, so realistically, there was nothing for him to ‘miss’.  

Perhaps he simply missed the sensation of not being completely alone.  

He turns back to his painting and frowns.  The whole thing is a mess.  He has been working on it for about a week now, and he’s not satisfied, but then again, he can’t remember the last time he had ever been truly satisfied with something he had created.  The painting itself is strange.  He had started it one morning, waking up from a dream about a mysterious figure with large black wings flying upward with a limp body cradled in its arms.  He didn’t know where the image had come from or what it had meant, all he knew was that he had to paint it, and so he did.  

Now, he begins to add the finishing touches to the largest element of the painting, the creature’s wings.  In his dream they had been large and black and they had rippled with power.  Cas didn't know how he knew these things, he just knew.  As he begins to delicately dab more paint onto the wings, he finds himself thinking about Dean and Alastair once more.  His stomach is in knots, and he doesn't really know what to do.  

Yes, Dean had told him that he could go to the party if he wanted to, but…should he?  He couldn’t help but feel that going there on his own, without Dean would be a bad idea.  Not only for him, but for his relationship with Dean as well.  And as much as Cas wants to push Alastair off the roof for what he had done to Dean, he realizes that by going to the party and engaging with him in any way would hurt Dean, and that was exactly what he has been trying to avoid.  He takes a step back from his painting and sighs.  Something about this one prickles under his skin and he can’t figure out why.  He removes his cigarette from in between his lips and walks over to the window, where he stubs it out on the windowsill before flicking it outside.  

His cell phone rings, and the shrill sound of it startles him.  He nearly drops his palette and curses below his breath as he glances around the room.  He spies it, sitting on top of his bed and he walks over to it, plopping down and picking up the phone in one motion.  The number on the screen is not familiar to him, but it’s almost 10:00 pm and so he figures it must be his dad or something so he answers.  

“Hello?” He listens but doesn't hear anything on the other line.  He frowns.  “Hello?” he says once more.  No one responds, and he rolls his eyes.  Just as he’s about to pull the phone away to hang up, finally, someone answers.  

“Castiel?” the person says hesitantly.

Cas lets out a soft gasp and swallows thickly.  “Mom?"


	12. Trompe-L’oeil

“What’s wrong?” Dean asks quietly. 

Across from him, Cas picks quietly at his lunch. He looks up at Dean and smiles at him.  It’s soft and doesn’t reach the corners of his eyes.  “Nothing,” he mumbles.  He waves his hand and turns his attention back to his slice of pizza.

Dean frowns.  Cas had been exceptionally quiet all day.  He had greeted Dean that morning with a lukewarm smile and a halfhearted peck on the lips before scurrying off to class.  Then, when they had bumped into each other in the hallway, Cas had a strange faraway look in his eyes.  He kept smiling at Dean, and nodding his head while Dean talked. Perhaps he thought that Dean wouldn’t be able to see past the façade but he was wrong.  Dean knew Cas well enough to know that something was bothering him and that he was simply keeping Dean in the dark.

“Doesn’t sound like nothing,” Dean says with a disapproving glare. He pushes up his glasses on the bridge of his nose and squints. 

Cas pulls off a bit of cheese from his pizza and pops it into his mouth.  “I said I’m fine, Dean,” he says angrily.  He picks up a napkin and quickly wipes his mouth and hands.  He gets up from his seat and picks up his tray and his backpack.

“Where are you going?” Dean asks. 

Cas shrugs.  “Somewhere,” he says moodily. 

Dean does his best not to roll his eyes.  “Are you going up to the roof?” he asks as Cas walks away. 

“No,” Cas shoots back, not even bothering to turn around.

Dean quickly gathers his things and takes off in Cas’ direction. He wants to laugh because only yesterday, he was the one storming out of the cafeteria in a murderous rage.  He hasn’t thought about it before, but he definitely knows it now, relationships are hard work, and even though he and Cas have only been together for a short period of time, he knew there are things that they need to work out before they can be in a good place.

A part of him wonders if perhaps he should simply let him go, if he should let Cas run and hide and be angry somewhere by himself. Maybe he needed the alone time to sort out his thoughts, and having Dean there would only serve as a hindrance. He thinks back to yesterday and the anger that had consumed him.  He had been so mad, and seeing Cas had only made him more upset, but only for a little while.  He had somehow been able to put it all aside and talk to him.  He had realized in that moment that he didn’t want to lose him, not over something so small.  He glances at his wristwatch and knows that if he follows Cas, he’ll miss his next class.

He follows him anyway. 

* * *

Cas knows Dean is following him. 

He continues to walk, fiddling with his lip ring and squinting in the sun.  He feels bad for snapping at Dean.  He knows he’s only trying to help, but he can’t help it.  He always reacts like this when he’s backed into a corner, like a snake darting its head back and forth, hissing and spitting venom.  It’s partly fueled by anger, and an innate desire to protect himself, but he’s old enough to know that it is also fueled by fear.

And that’s what he feels now… _fear_ , and a healthy dose of anxiety. 

He doesn’t want to be this way, he simply is. 

He walks off campus, feeling oddly reassured that Dean is several feet behind him, taking his time, not running or jogging to catch up to him. He almost stops to wait but he decides not to.  He needs to be somewhere else right now, somewhere bigger than the both of them. He begins to walk in the direction of the park, thinking that perhaps some time at the lake would be good for him.  Being close to water always calms him down. 

The park is a ten minute walk away from the school. Once Cas enters, he stops, looking around at all of the trees surrounding him.  He’s only been here a handful of times, and he’s not sure he remembers where the lake is.  Turning around, he sees Dean approaching, a soft smile on his face.

“Are you lost?” Dean asks when he finally reaches up to him.

“Not yet,” Cas says with a rueful smile. 

“The lake?” Dean asks.

Cas shakes his head.  “Am I really that predictable?” he asks sourly. 

Dean shrugs.  “It’s where I would go,” he says quietly.  He extends a hand toward Cas and stares at him expectantly. “You don’t have to tell me what’s wrong, Cas.  I just wanna be here with you,” he says. 

Cas regards him for a moment and then he nods.  He accepts Dean’s hand, thankful for its warmth and allows him to guide him through the park. 

He can tell that Dean knows it by heart.  They walk in silence, the only sound coming from the leaves crunching beneath their sneakers. 

“So, my dad is coming over on Sunday after lunch,” Dean says finally. 

“That blows,” Cas says.  He keeps his eyes focused on the ground below.  He squeezes down on Dean’s hand reassuringly. “I’m sure it’ll be fine, Dean,” he says.   

Dean shrugs.  “I already know what he’s gonna say.  To be perfectly honest, I’m not really interested but…whatever,” he says.

Silence wraps itself around them and they continue to walk, their fingers entwined, listening to the wind as it rustles through the trees. In the distance, the lake glimmers in the sun like a giant coin.  There are a few people milling about and several swans skate across the surface of the water, leaving little ripples of water in their wake.

“Swans kind of creep me out,” Dean admits.

Cas frowns and turns to look at him.  “Why?”

“I dunno, they just…do…they look all calm and peaceful from far away but when you see them up close they look all weird and creepy,” Dean explains.

Cas chuckles.  A few heartbeats pass and then he speaks.  “My mom called,” he says quietly. 

Dean doesn’t say anything for a moment.  He continues to pull Cas toward the little gazebo off to the side before someone else claims it.  It’s old and the white paint is peeling of the wooden planks but Dean loves it, he always has.  There’s a little bench on the inside big enough for the both of them and he guides Cas towards it.  “What did she say?” he asks as they sit down and make themselves comfortable.

Cas stares out at the water, his expression dull. “She wants me to come home,” he says. 

The words hang in the air between them, palpable, and Dean feels his heart hammer wildly in his chest.  Cas? Going home? No.  He was joking.  He had to be. “It’s not nice to make jokes like that,” Dean says looking over at him.  He observes the slouch of Cas’ shoulders, the way his eyes remain focused on the ground and it finally hits him. 

“I wish I was joking,” Cas says with a shake of his head.    

“Well…what are you gonna do?” Dean asks.  He stares at Cas expectantly. 

Cas turns to look at him.  “I told her no…I said I was settled here…and I don’t want to leave…” his voice trails off. 

“And?”

“And…she said she was gonna come down to see me. I guess she thinks she can convince me in person…either that or she’s planning on dragging me back with her,” he says with a little snort. 

Dean chews on his bottom lip.  He knows that Cas has friends back home, more friends than he has here.  He doesn’t want to be the reason why Cas stays here.  He doesn’t want Cas to feel obliged to stay because of him. “You know…you don’t…if you want to go home, you should…I mean I know you and your mom don’t get along one hundred percent but…all your friends are there and I don’t want you to feel like…I’m some kind of…burden,” Dean says, his cheeks getting hot.

Cas stares at him, confused.  “What makes you think that I think that you’re a burden?” he asks, lifting his eyebrow. 

Dean is the one who looks away.  He pushes his glasses up on the bridge of his nose and remains quiet. 

“Dean I’m staying here because I _like it_ here.  I like the school…I like this fucking lake…and I like you,” he says softly. He reaches for Dean’s hand and pulls him toward him.  “You’re not a burden, and so what if I stayed here to be with you? You’re worth it,” he says with a grin.  Yes, he finds himself feeling lonely at times, but if he was being perfectly honest, he felt the same way back home with his mother.  At least here he has Dean.   

Cas leans forward and removes Dean’s glasses.  “Plus if I go back home, I won’t get to do this whenever I want to,” he murmurs.  He closes the space between them and presses a soft kiss against Dean’s mouth.

Dean hums and moans, closing his eyes and leaning into the kiss. He feels Cas’ fingers trailing along the shell of his ear, rubbing his earlobe gently before fluttering over to the nape of his neck.  It sends a chill down his spine and he smiles against Cas’ mouth.  As he kisses Cas, he wonders if he’s being selfish, wanting Cas to stay here with him. 

“Cas?” Dean mumbles.

“Hm?” Cas pulls back, his lips pink and swollen.

Dean stares at him, furrowing his brows.  “Am I allowed to take what I want?” he asks in a low whisper.

Cas grins and nods.  He leans forward and presses his forehead against Dean’s. “Yes.”

“Good, because…I want you,” Dean says.

Cas laughs. 

* * *

The week rolls by and Cas slowly emerges from his funk. By the time the final bell rings on Friday, he’s all smiles and he reaches for Dean’s hand in the hallway. They leave the school together, Cas sporting a soft smile while Dean calls his mother to tell her that he’s spending the night at Cas’ place.

They decide to walk to Cas’ house instead of taking the bus, enjoying the cool autumn air and the crunch of leaves beneath their feet.       

“Ugh, we have a Spanish test on Monday?” Cas asks as he glances at his syllabus taped to the inside cover of his planner. 

“Yeah we do, Mr. Peralta talked about it for the last ten minutes of class today.  Weren’t you paying attention?” Dean asks. 

Cas groans and closes the book.  “Of course not.  Who pays attention in Spanish class?”

“Uh, I do?” Dean says.  

“Well, you’re a nerd so…that makes sense,” Cas teases.

Dean huffs out a laugh. “Yeah, says the guy who has all of his _syllabi_ taped to the inside of his planner…you’re such a nerd, don’t even…” he says with a large grin.

“Shut up, Mr. Straight-A-Student,” Cas grouses.

Dean glances at him.  “Not so straight,” he says with a wink. 

They both burst into laughter. 

* * *

 When they arrive to Cas’ house, they are both surprised to see a car in the driveway.  Dean immediately turns to Cas, worried.  “Is it your mom?” he asks.

Cas makes a face and shakes his head.  “Actually…it’s my dad,” he says softly.

Dean whistles as they walk past the sleek, silver Jaguar, expertly parked, the windows are rolled down and Dean realizes that someone is sitting in the driver’s seat.  The man looks nothing like Castiel, the only thing they share is the same dark hair but it’s nowhere near as messy as Cas’.  The man looks up and his lips curl into a little smile.

“Castiel,” he says in a clipped British accent.

“Hey, dad,” Cas replies.

Castiel’s father squints at him and then he glances at Dean. “Well, aren’t you going to introduce me to your little friend?” he asks. 

Cas rolls his eyes.  “Dad, this is my…friend Dean, Dean this is my absentee father,” Cas grumbles.

Dean flushes and waves at Mr. Novak.  “Nice to meet you sir,” he says, his father’s military training snapping into effect. 

Castiel’s father grins.  “At ease, soldier.”

“What are you doing here, dad?” Castiel asks.

His father looks up at the house and then back at Cas. “Well, the last time I checked, I lived here.  I just stopped by hoping I would catch you, actually.  Your mother called,” he says dryly.

Cas fidgets.  “Yeah she called me too.”

Cas’ father sighs and closes his eyes.  “That woman is insufferable.  She mentioned something about you wanting to live with her again?”

Cas snorts and rolls his eyes.  “I do _not_ want to live with her,” he says with a shake of his head. 

His father grins.  “That’s what I thought.  Listen…I don’t know when she’s planning this little…excursion of hers so, please let me know if you speak to her again.  I don’t know if I’m ready to deal with her,” he says. 

Cas nods and looks at the house, anxious to go inside.

Mr. Novak glances at the two of them as he turns the ignition on. The car purrs to life and he sits there for a moment a small smile on his face.  “Listen, whatever you two are up to, just make sure you use protection.”

Dean and Cas both look away, mortified, their faces red and hot.

“Jesus Christ, Dad,” Cas says. 

His father shrugs.  “Hey, I’m just looking out for you two.  Dean, is it?” he asks. 

Dean, still blushing furiously nods.  “Yes, sir.”  He watches as Cas’ father pulls out a pair of expensive looking sunglasses from his breast pocket and slips them onto his face. 

“You look like a nice boy.  Sweet, even.  Don’t let him corrupt you,” he says with a wicked grin. 

Dean opens his mouth to say something but nothing comes out. The car window slowly rolls up and Cas’ father expertly backs out of the driveway.  The two of them watch as the car pulls off leaving a little cloud of dust and dried leaves in its wake.  Dean turns to Cas, his mouth open. 

“Dude.”

Cas rolls his eyes and fishes for his keys in his pocket. “Don’t say a word.”

Dean grins.  “Dude. Your dad. Oh my God.”

Cas sighs and begins to walk up to the house.  “Yes, I know he’s an asshole.”

“Your dad is _not_ an asshole,” Dean says.  He taps his chin and follows Cas up the porch steps.  “Maybe more…of a douchebag.”

“What’s the difference?” Cas asks with a snort.

“It’s very subtle.  I think assholes are just…mean.  Your dad is just kinda douchey.  In a good way,” he adds quickly. 

Cas laughs and looks at him.  “He’s an asshole.”

Dean frowns.  “No. _My_ dad is an asshole.  Yours is just…weird.  Don’t corrupt me, Cas.  You heard your father,” Dean says sternly.

Cas groans and opens the door.  “You’re full of shit,” he says with a grin. 

Dean laughs and follows him inside.   

* * *

They order pizza and wings and settle themselves on the couch to watch a movie, Dean wearing a pair of borrowed pajama bottoms from Cas and Cas wearing boxers and Dean’s old Batman t-shirt. 

“What are we watching?” Cas asks as he plops down on the couch.

“ _Goodfellas_ ,” Dean says with an eager smile. 

Cas makes a face and turns to him.  “What are you, in the mob now?” he teases.

Dean rolls his eyes and presses play on the DVD remote. “Oh shit, wait, I forgot to give you something,” he says.

Cas frowns at him and watches as Dean hops off the couch and leaves the living room.  He reaches for the remote and pauses the film, waiting patiently for Dean to return.

Less than a minute later, Dean comes back into the living room holding a green bag in his hands.  He sits down next to Cas and folds his legs.  “So.  I wanted to get you something, and I was in the mall the other day and I thought this would be a nice thing to get and now I’m rambling so here,” he says. He holds the bag out and waits for Cas to take it. 

Cas squints at him.  “Why did you get me something?” he asks.

Dean shrugs.  “Because I felt like it.  C’mon, take it,” he says thrusting the bag towards Cas’ hands. 

Reluctantly, Cas accepts it.  He opens the bag and pulls something out wrapped in tissue paper. Hands trembling, he unwraps it, and soon finds himself face to face with a beautiful leather-bound book. Embossed on the cover is a compass, pointing north, and he unravels the red cord around it that had been keeping it closed.  A soft smile spreads across his face when he realizes that it’s a sketchbook. He flips through the stark pages, all blank, almost as though they were waiting for him.  The weight of the moment hits him in his chest and he swallows thickly against a knot forming in his throat.

“Dean…this is…” his voice trails off and he looks away, unable to face him. 

“Cas?” Dean murmurs, inching closer to him. 

Cas looks up at smiles.  “It’s beautiful, Dean.  Thank you,” he says reverently.  He runs a hand across the cover and he feels a familiar itch in his fingers.  He swings his legs off the side of the couch to run for his pencils but Dean reaches forward and grabs onto his shirt. 

“Uh, uh, not so fast, mister,” he says with a wry grin.

Cas frowns at him.  “What is it?”

Dean pats his index finger on his lips and winks. “Kisses first. Art later,” he says.

Cas groans but he leans forward and happily obliges.

* * *

Dean wakes up on Sunday morning with his heart in his throat. The sun is already shining through his window and he can hear music wafting up to his room from downstairs. His mother is already awake and probably cleaning and listening to The Beatles, her Sunday ritual. He yawns and stretches, and decides that it’s time to get his lazy ass out of bed. 

Friday night at Cas’ had turned into Saturday all day, snuggled up in bed with him and listening to him snore.  Cas had sketched and painted while Dean read curled up in the corner of the bed, then they had switched places and Dean had attempted to paint something while Cas fell into a book he had been read off and on for a while.  They spent a lot of the day in silence, simply enjoying each other’s company and Dean felt relieved that they could spend so much time together and not have to worry about filling it with words and conversation. 

Some days, it was best to simply bask in the silence.

As he swings his legs over the side of the bed he pauses. It’s Sunday, which means his father would be stopping by at some point during the day to talk to him and Sam. Dean takes a deep breath and closes his eyes.  He already knows what his father is going to say to them, he just doesn’t know if he wants to hear it.  With a weary sigh, he scrubs his hand across his face and forces himself out of bed. It’s his turn to make breakfast.   

* * *

“Is he your boyfriend, then?” Cas’ father asks as he enters the kitchen.

Cas jumps and nearly drops the carton of milk from his hand. He’s so used to his father not being around on the weekends, the sound of his voice startles him. In fact, he’s so used to his father hardly speaking to him at all, just _hearing_ him is a shock enough. 

Crowley Novak is a man of short stature.  He isn’t terribly imposing, but he has a look about him, a shrewd, calculating look, as though the wheels in his head are always in constant motion.

“What?” Cas asks even though he knew exactly what his father had said. 

“The Dean boy, is he your boyfriend?” Crowley asks again.

Cas sighs and closes the fridge.  He walks back to the table where his bowl of cornflakes is waiting for him and he sits down.  “Yes,” he says simply to his father without looking up. 

His father doesn’t respond.  Instead he walks over to the counter and pours himself a cup of coffee.  “Is it too early for whiskey?” he asks with a half smile. 

Cas tries not to roll his eyes but he does. 

“He seems like a nice boy,” his father says.  He takes the seat across from Cas and sips his coffee. “Look I know we don’t…talk much. I think we should fix that.”

Cas frowns.  “Why do you care?” he asks with a squint. 

His father shrugs.  “I just…look your mother called and I realized that I haven’t been spending enough time with you…” his voice trails off. 

Cas snorts derisively.  Since when was his father running for parent of the year? And since when did he care? He’s not sure what to think.  Since he’s been here, his father has been almost a phantom presence. He doesn’t really know if he even wants to pursue any type of relationship with him at this point. “Dad, you don’t have to. Really.  I know you’re busy.  I’m fine,” Cas says.  He does his best to keep the waver out of his voice and he looks down at his cereal once more. 

“That’s the thing though, it’s not fine.  What do you say we do something together today? Just you and me? Maybe we can go to the movies or…get lunch or something?” Crowley says with a hopeful smile.

Cas looks up and stares at his father.  “What’s your angle?” he asks, his mouth full of cornflakes.

“My angle? I don’t have an angle, Castiel,” his father says.

Cas smiles thinly.  “Right.  Is this some kind of…getting back at mom thing? You know…so when she shows up she’ll see what a wonderful time the two of us are having?” he spits angrily.

His father is taken aback and shakes his head.  “Of course not.  Is it a crime to want to spend some time with my son?”

Cas shakes his head and gets up from the table. “No.  It’s a crime to do it only when you know mom is back in the picture,” he says sourly.  He takes his bowl over to the sink, appetite gone.  He feels terrible for wasting the cereal, but he pours the milk down the drain and then throws the soggy flakes into the garbage.

“Castiel!” his father says, raising his voice. 

Cas shakes his head and walks out of the kitchen.

His father calls him again and he doesn’t turn around.

* * *

John Winchester shows up just as Dean finishes rinsing off the soap bubbles from the last plate.  He hears his father’s familiar heavy footsteps thump into the house and he feels his heart leap into his throat. 

“Dean! Sam!” his mother calls from the living room.

He shuts off the faucet and dries his hands on a dishtowel before slowly making his way to the living room. 

His father is sitting on the recliner once more, awkwardly perched on the edge.  He looks uneasy, and he keeps his gaze lowered down to the ground. 

His mother is sitting on the couch, as far away from John as possible.  Her arms are crossed over her chest and her lips are pressed into a tight line.

John looks up when Dean enters and he smiles wanly. “Hey, Dean,” he says.

Dean smiles thinly at him and moves to sit on the couch next to his mother.  “Hey, Dad.”

They sit in silence until Sam arrives.  He runs a hand through his hair and sits down next to Dean, staring at his father. 

When John looks at him, he has tears in his eyes. “Sammy.  It’s so good to see you.  Aren’t you gonna give your old man a hug?” he asks.

Sam glances over at Dean but he gets up and walks over to his father. 

John pulls him into a warm embrace, and Sam allows him to hug him and pat him on the back. 

“How’ve you been, son?” John asks.  He looks up at Sam, a fond smile on his face. 

“I’ve been good, sir,” Sam says with a little smile before walking back to the couch. 

The air surrounding them is thick and for a moment, Dean finds it hard to breathe.  He knows what’s coming, he knows what his father is going to say but it still scares him.

John sits up and sighs.  He plants both palms on his knees and he looks at his sons and then at his wife.  It’s strange, he thinks, how much this place no longer feels like home.  His children seem scared of him, and his wife is so angry at him, it’s almost like he’s walking in a dream.  While he had been away, he had thought of them so much, relying on the happier memories, waking up next to Mary and kissing her shoulder; putting Sammy on his shoulders while they walked around the super market searching for Goldfish; taking Dean out to the lake to go fishing. All of those things helped him through many a sleepless night, but one day he came back and he realized that being there didn’t feel natural anymore.  It didn’t feel like home.  He felt as though he didn’t know Sam and Dean anymore, and he didn’t know how to even begin to repair those relationships. 

But with Adam and Kate, it was easy.

They don’t expect anything of him.  They don’t have any preconceived notions of how he used to be. They simply know him as he is and they accept him, and he loved them for that.  As he looks at his family, he can’t blame them for feeling the way they do about him.  In their eyes, he’s the villain, he’s the one in the wrong. 

He hangs his head in shame. 

“This isn’t easy for me, boys,” he begins softly. “I know you probably…hate me… but…your mother and I have decided that it would probably be best if…she and I…separated.”

Sam looks over at Dean and then at his mother.  He turns his attention back to his father, a frown on his face.  “Why?” he asks.

The stark simplicity of the question takes them all aback. John glances at Mary and they stare at each other for a moment before looking away.  Sam is still staring up at his father expectantly, waiting for an answer. 

“You boys know I love you.  I love you so much…but sometimes…things just don’t work out,” he says softly.

Sam’s frown deepens.  “But…I don’t get it, dad.  You never really came back to even…try, so…I don’t know if I believe that,” he says.

Dean’s eyes widen and he glances over at Sam who is sitting up and staring at his father.  Dean can’t help but admire his brother’s gall. 

“I did come back, Sammy.  You know that.  I just…I didn’t stay, I couldn’t,” John says with a helpless shrug of his shoulders. 

Sam chuckles and shakes his head.  “You know what dad, you do what you need to do. I’m fine where I am, and so is Dean, and I’m pretty sure mom will be okay too.  Unless you have something else to say, I should probably go finish my homework,” he says as he gets up. 

“I have another son,” John says as Sam begins to walk away.

Sam freezes and Dean gasps.

“His name is Adam, and…I’d like you both to meet him, if you want,” John says.

Sam turns around and stares at his father for a moment before shaking his head again.  “Like I said, I have homework to do,” he says coldly. 

John, Mary and Dean watch as Sam walks over to the staircase and quickly jogs up, not even sparing them a parting glance.      

Mary observes John and then she too, gets up from her seat. “I should go check on him. Dean, would you see your father out?”

Dean waits until his mother is upstairs to look over at his father. John looks…sad, Dean realizes. His shoulders are still stooped, and his hands are clasped together.  His mouth is pressed into a frown, and his brows are furrowed. Dean clears his throat and stands up. 

John, does not.  “Dean, you must hate me,” he says softly. 

“I don’t hate you dad.  And neither does Sam.  He’s just…it’s hard to deal with.  He’s young.”

“And _you_ aren’t? God, I’m such a fuck up.”

Dean feels a pang in his chest and his looks down. “Dad, I can handle it. I’ll take care of them, of Mom, and Sammy.”  He says the words but he’s not sure if he believes them.  

John looks up and there are tears in his eyes.  “I’m sorry Dean.  I’m so sorry.”

* * *

Halloween comes to town, on a cool, breezy Friday.

Dean wakes up with butterflies in his stomach.  He remains in bed for a long time staring at the ceiling.  Whenever he closes his eyes, he can see Alastair hovering over him, he can smell the alcohol on his breath, he can feel his hands on his waist, fingers fumbling with the fly on his jeans.  It makes his skin crawl. 

Reluctantly, he gets out of bed and walks over to his window. Outside, the sun is rising, casting a warm glow on the trees, all of the leaves in various stages of brown, orange and red.  He wishes he could go back to that night one year ago and kick Alastair in the dick for what he had done to him.  He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.  He can’t go back in time, that much he knows, but he can go forward. He knows that in comparison to other people, what had happened to him was nothing, but he also knows that he can’t simply push his pain away because he didn’t think what happened to him was ‘bad enough’. 

Yes, Alastair had hurt him, and yes, he wasn’t going to get over it in a day, but he wasn’t going to let it hold him back from living his life. Immediately, some of the butterflies in his stomach recede and he’s able to pull in a deep, calming breath. All week he has been dreading this day, dreading the bad dreams it would bring, the crushing feelings of powerlessness.  He hasn’t been looking forward to confronting those feelings and more than anything, he wants to lock them away forever, but as he observes the sun rising higher and higher in the sky, he realizes that doing that won’t help him at all. He thinks of Cas and his sweet kisses, his gentle reassurances, he thinks of how happy he feels when he’s with him, of how much he cherishes that feeling of being safe and loved. For the first time in a long time, he feels comfortable in his skin. 

He closes his eyes again and smiles. 

* * *

Cas isn’t sure how to feel. 

He’s sitting in art class, staring at a blank canvas, a piece of charcoal between his fingers.  Next to him, a pretty girl with dark hair sketches what seems to be some kind of rock formation in quick strokes.  He stares at her for a while.  She sketches quickly and doesn’t deliberate much on where to go next.  The picture forms in front of his eyes and he finds himself impressed with her skill.

“Are you just going to stare the entire time?” she asks without turning to look at him.

Cas flushes and turns back to his own canvas.  “Sorry,” he mumbles. 

She chuckles.  “It’s okay.  I didn’t mean to scare you.”  She stops drawing and turns to his canvas.  “Wow. Art block?” she asks. 

Cas sighs and nods.  “Yeah.  Got a lot on my mind.  Can’t seem to…channel it onto the paper,” he says with a small smile. 

She nods.  “I know that feeling.  I’m Hael, by the way,” she says with a smile.

Cas returns it.  “Castiel.”

Hael glances at her canvas and then over at his. “What were you thinking of drawing?” she asks.

Cas shrugs.  “I don’t know.  I’ve been…having these weird dreams lately.  Like…I dunno, angels and demons…weird shit,” he says.

She frowns and nods.  “Religious?”

“Who me? Nah,” Cas says with a smile.  “Not particularly.  I just keep…dreaming this one scene over and over of…an angel with big black wings…diving and…going deep into the earth, and he’s getting closer and closer to what he’s looking for…it’s a man…and he saves him. I did a painting of it but…I just can’t get it out of my head,” he says. 

Hael nods and turns to her own canvas.  “I visited the Grand Canyon when I was six. I haven’t been there since but…I dream about it all the time.  And I remember it so vividly.  It’s almost unnatural how…crisp and clear it is in my head. It kinda weird’s me out but…I keep drawing it, it’s like I can’t stop.  Maybe focus on something small.  Instead of the big picture.  Draw a wing.  Or some hands.  Or some rocks,” she says with a giggle. 

Cas laughs.  He actually laughs and nods.  “That’s a good idea, Hael.  Thanks.”

Hael smiles.  “You know.  You look a little intimidating, but you’re not so bad.”

Cas rolls his eyes.  “Don’t get all sentimental on me now,” he teases.  He turns to his canvas and closes his eyes for a moment. Of course, he can’t tell Hael what’s really bothering him.  He doesn’t know her that well and he’s not exactly in the mood for talking about anything other than art.  Still, he can’t help but wonder what an outsider would say about his situation with Dean. “Hael, can I ask you a question?” he asks without looking over at her.  He begins to work on the outline of a wing. 

“Shoot,” she says. 

“You have two choices.  One of them will…make you happy.  The other…will make the person you love, happy.  Which one do you choose?” he asks. 

She stops drawing and looks at him.  “Are you asking me personally?  Or…is this…you know…” her voice trails off.

Cas shrugs.  “Whatever you want it to be.”

Hael hums thoughtfully and then turns back to her drawing. “Well, that’s difficult. I mean…I’m guessing the thing you want to do will make the person you love…unhappy?”

Castiel swallows thickly.  He knows the answer already.  It’s yes.  He knows that if he goes to the Halloween party tonight, it will only make Dean upset, even if he was supposedly okay with it.  A good person wouldn’t go to the party.  A good person would stay home with Dean and make sure he was okay.  

At this point in his life, Cas wasn’t sure if he was a good person.

“I…yes.  It will,” he says tiredly.

Hael puts down her charcoal and turns to Cas.  “I don’t know you that well, but I get the sense that you really care for this person.  I get it, I understand wanting to…make them happy, and…I don’t want this to sound selfish or terrible…but…you can’t forget about yourself…don’t put yourself on the back burner, no matter how much you love someone.”

Cas nods.  What she’s saying makes sense.  The only flaw is that by going to the Halloween party, his motivations are…fuzzy. On one hand, it could be seen as him standing up for Dean...and on the other hand, it could look like a pissing contest between the old flame and the new.  He sighs and turns back to his drawing. He concentrates on drawing the wings, large, looming, black.  In his pocket, his phone buzzes.  He stops drawing and pulls it out.  He smiles when he sees that the message is from Dean. 

**Dean** : Hey Cas, you busy?

**Cas** : art class. everything ok?

**Dean** : yeah. umm. so I just wanted to tell you that…if you really want to go to the halloween party later, you can. my mom and I are gonna watch horror movies and eat pop corn until she leaves for her shift.

**Cas** : that sounds like fun. are u sure you’re ok with me going to that party…

**Dean** : yea. I did some thinking about it this morning and…I’m fine with it. seriously.

**Cas** : I dunno.

**Dean** : don’t be a butt. look it’ll be good. you can mingle. meet new people and stuff.

**Cas** : but I only want to hang out with u ;(

**Dean** : haha, yea ok. Just go for a bit. you can come over when my mom leaves ;D

**Cas** : mmm. what about sam?

**Dean** : at a sleepover.

**Cas** : oh….ok then. well. let me know when your mom leaves ;D

**Dean** : u pervert.

**Cas** : u love it.

**Dean** : haha. yea I guess I do :p see ya later, punk.

**Cas** : see ya.

Cas smiles and slips his phone back into his pocket.

“Good news?” Hael asks. 

Cas turns to her and smiles.  “Yes.  Very good news,” he says.  He turns back to his canvas and begins to work on the wings once more.  “Thank you, Hael,” he says quietly.

“For what?” she asks. 

Cas smiles.  “For listening.” 

* * *

Dean plops down on the couch next to his mother and smiles. She’s already picking at a bowl of popcorn, anxiously watching the TV screen. 

They had decided to watch Poltergeist, one of their favorite horror movies, and Dean eagerly folds his legs up on the couch, moving closer to his mother.  He’s thankful for this moment, for getting to spend some quality time with her.

She nudges him with her shoulder and smiles at him. “Are you ready?” she asks as the movie starts.

He smiles back at her and nods.  He reaches for some popcorn and settles into the couch, happiness blooming in his chest and spreading throughout his body. It’s been a while since he’s felt this good, he realizes as he chews some popcorn. 

It’s Halloween, he’s watching a movie with his mom and his boyfriend was coming over to spend the night.   

What could possibly go wrong?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey there! so, my apologies for this chapter taking forever to be done. I was suffering from some serious writer's block, went on vacation, and also had to work on my DCBB so I was a little swamped. thanks for sticking around, and I hope you enjoyed the chapter!


	13. Ablaq

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is NSFW content in this chapter. If you are sensitive to who tops and bottoms, please check the tags!

Everything is going wrong.

“I’m so sorry, sweetie,” Mary says, casting an apologetic smile towards Dean.  She reaches in for a hug and she kisses his forehead.

“It’s okay, mom, I know, I know,” Dean grumbles. 

Mary smiles at him and ruffles his hair.  “It’s Halloween, they need me at the hospital,” she says as she hoists her purse on her shoulder. 

In the doorway, Ellen Harvelle smiles at them both.  “Look at you two.  If only I could hug Jo like that,” she says wistfully. 

Dean can’t help but smile.  He likes Ellen. She’s one of his mom’s best friends at the hospital and is always willing to lend a helping hand whenever they need it.  

Mary grins at Ellen and then turns back to Dean.  “Make sure you call your brother to check up on him.  I’m leaving the car, just in case.  Here are the keys.  Emergencies only!” she warns. 

Dean’s face colors but he accepts the keys.  He hopes he doesn’t have to use them.  “I got it, mom.”s

Mary nods. “Will…Castiel be coming over?” she asks in a low voice. 

Dean’s face burns and he looks away.  “He might, after the Halloween party,” he murmurs. 

Mary hums and squints at him.  “Well…you two…” her voice trails off and she glances over at Ellen. 

“I’ll be in the car,” Ellen says.  “See ya, Dean.”

“Bye Ellen,” Dean says.

Mary waits until the door closes and she turns back to her son.  “Dean we’ve talked about sex.”

Dean groans. “Mom!”

Mary cocks an eyebrow and plants a hand on her hip. “Now listen to me, young man. You know the rules. No glove, no love, and yes, it applies with boys as well as with girls.  I know you feel awkward about this but I have to tell you, it’s my job, as a Nurse, and as your Mom.  You know I love you, I just want to make sure that you’re safe. Okay?”  

Dean can barely feel his face anymore and he knows he must be as red as a tomato. Hell, even the tips of his ears are hot and he unconsciously reaches up to touch them.  “I know, mom,” he says.  He can’t even look her in the eye and instead chooses to focus on her scrubs. 

Mary sighs deeply and she reaches out to cup his face with her hand.  Gently, she lifts his head and looks into his eyes. “I trust you, Dean. I don’t know where you and Castiel are in your relationship, but it doesn’t hurt for me to discuss these things with you, okay?”

Dean nods grudgingly. 

She leans forward and kisses his forehead again and then smiles.  “Alright well, I’ll see you tomorrow!” she says brightly. 

“See ya, mom. Be safe,” he says.

“You too, Dean. Call the nurse’s station if you need anything!” she yells as she walks out of the house. 

“Yeah!” he responds.  He walks up to the door and watches as she hops into Ellen’s dark green jeep.  The door slams and after a brief pause, the car drives off.

Dean remains on the porch for a few minutes, observing the two pumpkins on either side of the steps and the bowls of candy that they had left out for the kids.

With a weary sigh he trudges back inside.

* * *

Bela doesn’t live in a house, she lives in a _mansion_.

Large iron gates, flanked by thick slabs of stone stand before him.  The gates themselves are covered with orange and black streamers in an attempt to be festive.  There’s a little cutout of a ghost hanging on the left side, swaying eerily in the breeze. 

He pulls his cloak closer around his shoulders, warding himself from the chill. The sky above him is dark and cloudy, ominously blocking out the stars and the moon.  Something about it sends a shiver down his spine.

The wind howls in the trees, and the cardboard ghost rattles against the gate. Cas swallows thickly and feels fear bloom in the pit of his stomach. 

He should go home. He shouldn’t be here.

Of all the stupid things he has done in his life, this is definitely at the top of the list.

He pulls out his phone from his pocket, unlocks it and goes to his recent calls. His thumb hovers over Dean’s name, his fingers itching.  Just as he presses the button, he is startled by a derisive snort from behind. He quickly cancels the call and spins around, not surprised to find Meg staring at him, a sour look on her face.

“Don’t tell me you’re getting cold feet, Novak,” she drawls with a little smile.

True to her word, she has dressed up as the bride of Frankenstein, complete with the dark lipstick, and the streaks of white on the sides of her head.  Her dress is white, and she has a tight black corset strapped around her middle.  Even Cas has to admit that she looks beautiful in her costume. It suits her well.

“My feet are naturally cold,” he says dryly.   

“Who are you supposed to be?” she asks gesturing to his costume. 

Cas reaches into his pocket and pulls out a strip of black cloth with holes for his eyes. “Zorro.”

“Was that the last costume on the shelf?” she asks. 

Cas snorts. “It was, actually.”

Meg watches him as he ties the strip of cloth over his eyes.  “Dashing,” she says, cocking her brow.  “Where’s your date?”

“Couldn’t make it,” Cas replies airily.  He turns around and looks up at the large house once more.  The feeling of dread returns to his stomach and he presses his lips together in a thin line. 

Meg slowly walks towards him and stands next to him.  “It’s a doozy, isn’t it?” she asks. 

Cas squints up at the house.  The mask is itchy on his face and he wants to take it off.  “I wasn’t aware that the house would be so…large.”

“Hmm. That’s what everyone says.”

Cas laughs but the sound is hollow to his own ears.  Silence envelopes them and they remain quiet, listening to the wind howling through the trees.  In the distance, Cas can hear a faint thump, which could only be the music from the party. He shivers. 

“What are you planning on doing in there?” Meg asks. 

Cas wishes he had an answer for her.  While he has a definite part one of the plan, he has no idea what to do when he actually sees Alastair, what he’s going to say to him once he gets inside. His mind is calm, yet rage and anger bubble beneath the surface of his skin.  He can feel it in his chest with every breath he takes, tight and strained like a balloon slowly inflating inside of him. “I’m not planning anything,” he says.

Meg glances over at him and scowls.  “You know, there’s something about you that I like, Novak,” she says with a little smile.

“Must be my charm,” Cas says dryly. 

Meg snorts. “I don’t know what you’re planning in there, but just know that Alastair isn’t the one to fuck around with. He’s an asshole of the highest caliber.  Believe me.”

“I’ve gathered as much,” Cas replies.  They lapse into another silence and he can feel Meg staring at him, her dark eyes boring holes into his skin.  “If there’s something you want to say, then say it,” he says without looking over at her. 

Meg shifts and then chuckles.  “Be careful in there, angel,” she says softly.  “Don’t bite off more than you can chew.”

Castiel glances over at her and nods. 

Together, they go inside.

* * *

The music is so loud, Castiel can barely hear himself think. 

The space where the party is being held looks like a giant ballroom, and he can see people drifting around holding cups in their hands.  There’s a crowd of people dancing in the middle, some of them quite suggestively, and he’s not sure how he’s going to find Alastair in this mess. 

It hits him suddenly that this was the place where Dean had been assaulted, and anger rises in his chest.  His heart leaps into his throat and he swallows thickly, glancing around once more.

“You good, Zorro?” Meg asks.  She floats up next to him, her dress standing out in the darkness surrounding them.

“I’m fine,” he says moodily.  His eyes continue to dart around the room, searching for a familiar face. 

“If you’re looking for Alastair, he’s not going to be in here,” Meg says. 

Cas glances over at her and frowns.  “Where would he be?”

She nods to her right and cocks an eyebrow.  “The study.  That’s where all the posh assholes hang out and drink cognac until they’re ready to party with the peasants.”

Cas snorts and shakes his head incredulously.  “They drink cognac?  And how the hell do you even know this?” he asks.

She winks at him and grins.  “I have my ways,” she says. 

Cas chews on his bottom lip and stares back out at the crowd.  “Where’s the girlfriend?”

Meg squints out at the crowd and scans it, searching for Alastair’s girlfriend, Lilith.

“Cleopatra?” Cas asks, spotting her first, nodding towards a girl at the edge of the dance floor, delicately sipping from a red regulation cup. 

“Bingo,” Meg replies. 

Cas takes a deep breath and then he begins to head in Lilith’s direction when Meg reaches out and grabs his arm. 

“What on _earth_ are you doing, Novak?” she hisses. 

“I’m going to dance with Alastair’s girlfriend,” he says with a squint.  The look on Meg’s face is priceless, and Cas wishes he could frame it on his wall. 

“Have you lost your mind?” she asks. 

Cas snorts and pulls away.  “I know what I’m doing, Meg,” he growls.  He feels a slight pang of terror and a strange metallic taste in his mouth. If he does what he’s planning to do, he knows he’ll definitely have Alastair’s attention.  He looks over at Lilith who is gently swaying back and forth to the music.     

“Do you really?” she snaps. 

He shoots her a dirty look and then heads in Lilith’s direction once more.  As he walks over, he finds himself wishing he had a drink, or hell, even some pot would be great.  Anything to knock the edge off.  His palms are sweaty and he quickly dries them on his pants before stopping at the girl’s side. 

“Do I know you?” Lilith asks without looking at him. 

Cas huffs out a laugh and shrugs.  “Would you like to dance?” he asks.  He glances at her out of the corner of his eye.  She’s pretty, but aloof.  She doesn’t seem interested at all, and for a moment, he’s scared that she won’t take the bait. 

“Why would I dance with you?” she asks. 

Cas pauses. He chooses his next words carefully.  “Because…no one else out here has the balls to ask you to dance.  And he left you out here alone,” he says softly. He moves closer to her and sends up a silent prayer when she stands still.

She turns to him and smirks.  “Fine.” She finishes the rest of her drink and she places it on the floor before grabbing Castiel’s hand and dragging him into the fray. 

Immediately, he can sense people’s uneasiness, and they part to give them access to the cramped, designated dancing space.  The music is still loud, but his ears have adjusted and when he places his hands on her hips, he looks up at her, questioningly. 

“It’s fine,” she says to him. 

He nods and they begin to dance. 

* * *

A couple feet away, Cassie finds herself staring at the masked boy dancing with Lilith and wondering why he looks so familiar to her.  She grabs her friend Tracy’s hand and pulls her closer to the boy with the mask.  She doesn’t know why, but she needs to know who this person is, and why they thought that dancing with Lilith would be a good idea. 

“What are you doing?” Tracy asks.  She adjusts her own mask on her face and frowns. 

Cassie reaches up and fiddles with her cat ears.  “How are my ears?” she asks as she glances over at the boy again.

“They’re fine, what’s going on?” Tracy asks in a low whisper. 

Cassie squints at the boy, her mind turning, wondering why in the world he looks so familiar. A few beats later, she lets out a soft gasp.  She knows who it is now. 

It’s Cas. “Oh shit,” she mumbles.

“Are you going to tell me what’s going on?” Tracy snaps. 

Cassie rounds on her.  “Do you remember what happened to the last guy who danced with Lilith at a party?” she chides.

Tracy shrugs. “Everyone knows, that’s why no one dances with her, ever.  Shit, not even her own man dances with her.”

Cassie sighs and nods in Castiel’s direction.  “Look at that asshole.”

Tracy turns and balks when she sees Lilith dancing with someone dressed as Zorro. “Jesus Christ. Do they have a death wish? Who _is_ that?”

Cassie’s lips press themselves into a thin line.  “It’s a friend…” she says, her voice low. 

Tracy scoffs. “Well apparently that white boy has done gone and lost his mind.  You stay away from this, Cassie.  You know Alastair is insane.  Frankly, I can’t believe he hasn’t been expelled after all the shit he’s pulled.”

Cassie snorts. “It’s called, money, Tracy. This is not good. I should call Dean,” she frets.

“Why would you call Dean?” she asks.  She squints over at the dancing pair and then she shakes her head.  “Is that….is that his _boyfriend_?” she asks. 

Cassie chews on her bottom lip and sighs.  “This isn’t gonna be good.”

* * *

“I can only assume that you want something,” Lilith says dryly. 

“So do you,” Cas shoots back. 

Lilith cracks a smile, the first real one Cas has ever seen from her.  “You’re right about that,” she murmurs. “Though.  The last person who danced with me…ended up in the hospital…couple fractured ribs, and a black eye…” she says softly.

“So you’re saying I’m in danger?” Cas asks.

Lilith smirks. “So I’m saying that I hope to God you know what you’re getting yourself into.”

Castiel bristles but he remains calm.  There’s no sense in getting himself worked up about any of it.  He knew from the moment he walked through the gate that he was making a decision that could potentially be dangerous but he didn’t even care.  Alastair would get what he deserved.  

“I’m curious as to what you want,” she says. 

Castiel shrugs. “I just want to get his attention.”

Lilith frowns. “Why here?  I mean…we all go to the same school…at least I think I know who you are.  The artist, right?”

Castiel remains silent and doesn’t respond. 

“I’m going to take that as a yes.  So why here? Why now?  This is something you could do in a hallway, a locker room.”

Castiel doesn’t know how to explain it to her without revealing too much information. “Let’s just say it makes sense to me,” he says softly.  And it does. Today, things have come full circle, it’s been a year since the last Halloween party, since Dean had been hurt, and now, Castiel wants to make Alastair pay for what he had done. He wants him on his knees, he wants to feel his knuckles smash into his face, he wants to feel Alastair’s blood on his hands.  It’s selfish of him, he knows it  is, but he can’t help it. 

So he tightens his grip on Lilith’s waist, and he waits.

* * *

Dean has fallen asleep on the couch. 

His glasses are off, for once, and he snores softly.  His body is curled towards the inside of the couch, one hand resting lightly on his stomach, the other, slowly losing circulation under his side. He is jolted awake when his cell phone rings shrilly from on the coffee table.

“Jeeze,” he murmurs angrily.  He rolls over and gropes for his phone, not bothering to check and see who it is. “Lo?” he asks sleepily.

“Dean?”

He smiles. It’s Sam.  He sits up and yawns.  “Sammy?  You okay?”

“Yeah, I was just calling to check in.  Andrew and I are heading back to his house now.”

Dean yawns again and rubs his eyes.  “Sounds good. You two had a good time?”

“Yeah. We hung out a bit. And…Jess came with us too, and Eva,” he says. 

Dean grins and he can almost hear Sam blushing over the phone.  “Look at you go,” he teases. 

“Shut up, Dean!” Sam grouses.  “What are you doing?”

“Aww, do you miss me?”   

“Ew, no way,” Sam says.

Dean huffs out a laugh.  “Well, I _was_ taking a nap, but I guess I should just go to bed or something.”

“Old fart. Where’s Cas?”

Dean rolls his eyes.  “He’s at a Halloween party.”

“And why aren’t you with him?” Sam asks. 

For a brief moment he considers telling Sam the real reason why he didn’t go to the party, but he quickly realizes that it’s not the time or the place to do so. Instead he quickly comes up with some pathetic sounding lie, telling Sam that he wasn’t in the mood to party, which Sam accepts without much of a fight. 

“Alright well…I’m gonna go now,” Sam says. 

“Be safe, and don’t do anything stupid,” Dean scolds.

Sam sighs loudly and laughs.  “You know I won’t. Later, Dean.”

“Later, butthole,” Dean shoots. 

“Later, jerkwad,” Sam says quickly before hanging up the phone. 

Dean shakes his head and locks his phone.  He yawns and places it back on the table, settling back into the couch and closing his eyes once more.  As he tries to will himself back to sleep, thoughts of Cas and his whereabouts begin to pervade his mind like milk, swirling into a coffee cup. 

He is unable to fall back asleep.

* * *

Castiel feels uneasy. 

So far, he’s been dancing with Lilith, but nothing has happened.  Some people have moved away from them, and he can detect some stares, but apart from that, nothing.  It doesn’t feel right, and Lilith knows it too. She glances around, her entire body poised, waiting for something bad to happen.  The music continues to pour from the speakers, and the general din of conversation rises and falls around them. Lilith sighs and shakes her head.

“This is pointless,” she says.

“I think you might be right,” he says finally.  He wonders if perhaps this is a gift from God, or some cosmic being, giving him a second chance.  Maybe he should just leave, he thinks.  He finally lets go of Lilith’s waist and stops dancing.  “I’m sorry,” he says with a little shrug. “I should go.” He is so wrapped up in himself, in thinking that he has failed, that this entire thing was a bust, that he doesn’t register the sudden lack of conversation around him.  He doesn’t see the look on Lilith’s face as she takes a step back from him. 

“Leaving so soon?” someone asks from behind him. 

His blood runs cold and his heart drops into the pit of his stomach.  Slowly, he turns around and he looks up at the person standing behind him.

Alastair smiles at him, one that doesn’t quite meet the corner of his eyes.  “Are you looking for me?” he asks.

Cas’ heart thumps so loudly in his chest, for a moment, he can’t hear anything else besides the blood rushing in his ears.  “Yes,” he hears himself say.  He curls his hands into fists. 

It’s now or never, he thinks.  He pulls his arm back and punches Alastair in the face.

* * *

Dean’s phone rings again but this time he’s in the kitchen, fixing himself a mug of hot chocolate. He stirs the brown, swirling mass in the cup, watching as the little marshmallows float on the top, unaware of where they were or what was even happening.  He glances over at the phone and frowns when he realizes that it’s not Sam or Cas, it’s _Cassie_.

“Hello?”

“Dean, oh my God, you need to get to Bela’s, _now_ ,” she says. 

He stops stirring his hot chocolate and his heart leaps into his throat.  “What is it?  What’s happening?” he asks.

Cassie’s voice sounds fuzzy and he can’t make out what she’s saying.  “It’s Cas…Dean he’s…” her voice fades in and out, accompanied by static. 

“Cassie?”

“Dean! Alastair and Cas…”

Dean gasps softly and he closes his eyes.  A part of him had always known that something like this would happen, that Cas wasn’t capable of letting it go.  “Shit…” he mutters below his breath.  He glances down at his drink one last time, at the marshmallows bobbing gently up and down wishing he could go back in time, wishing he hadn’t answered the phone, that he had let it go to voicemail.   

 _Is this even worth it_? He wonders. He feels terrible for even feeling this way.  The hesitation digs at him, and he removes his glasses, only to press the heels of his palms against his eyeballs until he’s seeing stars.  He imagines that Cas must be confronting Alastair for what he had done, and he is struck by the image of everyone knowing his secret.  It makes him feel sick to his stomach that something like this could happen, and he presses his stomach against the countertop, angry, confused, upset, and sad. 

He’s a burden, he knows it now.  He knows it because of Cas.  Because of what he’s doing.  He should have never told him about Alastair, he should have simply kept his mouth shut because now nothing good would come of this.  Why should Cas have to clean up his messes? Why?

Tears burn in his eyes and he curls his hands into fists, his heart aching in his chest, when suddenly, he remembers…

_“You’re not a burden…and so what if I stayed here to be with you…you’re worth it.”_

He remembers the softness of Cas’ lips pressed up against his own.  He remembers Cas removing his glasses to kiss him. He remembers how his ears had burned when Cas sketched him, how he felt when he discovered that very first image of himself in his locker, the blue of Cas’ eyes observing him, seeing past the walls, his eyeliner, the feel of him pressed up against him. He remembers waking up next to Cas, what it felt like to simply be there with him, how comfortable and relaxed he was. He remembers it all and he opens his eyes, angry at himself for forgetting these things.  His mother’s words float back to him, unbidden… _”…that’s part of life…part of being human…you’re not perfect…and neither is your friend…”_

He doesn’t know what’s happening at Bela’s party, but he’s not about to stand by and watch Cas get hurt because of him.  He slips on his glasses and leaves the kitchen to search for his mother’s keys and to grab a jacket. 

He quickly leaves the house, his hot chocolate sitting on the counter in the kitchen, still warm. 

* * *

Castiel’s fist makes contact with Alastair’s face and the older boy stumbles back in shock.

Someone screams and immediately people draw back in fear. 

Castiel breathes heavily, his knuckles throbbing from where he had clocked Alastair in the nose.  He watches as Alastair gains his footing and brings a hand to his nose, searching for blood. Castiel can see that some of the boy’s fingertips are covered in blood and he feels a rush of satisfaction run through his body. 

Alastair wipes his hand on his jeans and he smirks.  “That’s no way to say hello,” he says calmly. 

Castiel curls his hand into a fist once more. 

“And here I thought we were friends,” Alastair says.  He chuckles and steps into Castiel’s space.  Leaning forward, he grins at Castiel.  “Is this about your little boyfriend?” he whispers.

Castiel clenches his jaw.  “You _lied_ to me.”

Alastair laughs. “I lied? Did I lie about his cock in my hand, I wonder?  Did he tell you about that?” he asks in a low whisper. 

Castiel swallows thickly.  He’s pretty sure no one else has heard Alastair but he’s nervous nonetheless.  He hadn’t expected him to bring it up at all. He steps back.

“What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue?” Alastair teases. 

Castiel growls. “You’re sick,” he says, his voice dripping with disgust. 

Alastair laughs and throws his head back.  Then without warning, he attacks.  He’s brutal, fast, and he shoves Cas, _hard_.

Castiel falls back and is sprawled on the floor, his entire body shaking with anger. He looks up only to realize that Alastair is already hovering over him. 

Alastair gets down on the ground and pins him to the floor.  He pulls his arm back and slugs Cas in the face, grinning manically.  “What were you trying to do here, Castiel?” Alastair asks through gritted teeth. He punches Cas again, this time hitting him on the nose.

Pulling strength from some unknown reserve, Castiel pushes back.  He lifts his knee and it makes contact with Alastair’s stomach.  He pushes forward and Alastair tumbles onto the floor, lying on his back. 

Now, Cas is in control.

He quickly scrambles over to the other boy and immediately punches him, fueled by adrenaline, his fist makes contact with the skin and bone.  He punches with his left hand, his silver ring clipping the bottom of Alastair’s lip, splitting it, blood trickling down onto his chin.  There’s blood on Castiel’s knuckles and all he can hear is the sound of his own blood, rushing through his ears.  He’s high on this, and he feels a strange euphoria shoot through his system. He’s winning, he thinks.

The world around him suddenly comes back into sharp focus.  The people crowding around them, the lack of music, the gasps of horror, and a soft familiar voice.  He glances up and sees Dean’s friend, Cassie, staring at him, shaking her head, tears in her eyes.

“Cas, stop,” she whispers. 

A moment of hesitation is all it takes, and immediately, Alastair is pushing Castiel off, back onto the ground. 

“Fuck!” Castiel yells as his elbow smashes into the floor.  It sends a sharp, radiating pain up his arm and he feels tears well in his eyes. 

“Alastair are you crazy?  Stop this right now!” someone shouts.   

Alastair pauses and looks up, a smile curling onto his face when he sees who it is.

Bela has one hand planted on her hip, an eyebrow cocked shaking her head at the both of them.  She’s dressed in a tight fitting cat-suit and she has a scowl painted onto her face. “I can’t believe you. You’re ruining my party,” she snaps. 

Castiel almost laughs at the fact that Bela is more concerned about her party being ruined than about someone getting the shit kicked out of them in her house.

“Can I ask you to please take it outside?” she asks sweetly.  “You’ll ruin my floor with all that blood.”

Alastair slowly stands and faces her.  “Anything you want, your majesty,” he says with a little sneer.  “Gordon, Zach, get him up, take him outside,” he says. He walks over to Lilith, her mouth pressed into a thin line.  He reaches forward and caresses her face, leaving a little trail of blood on her cheek.  “Lil. What did I tell you about other boys?” he asks in a low whisper. 

Lilith clenches her jaw but says nothing.

Alastair chuckles and slaps her cheek lightly.  “I’ll deal with you later,” he snarls. 

Cas’ head is spinning when he feels strong hands clamp around his arms.  “Time to get up, pretty boy,” someone says with a laugh in his ear. 

Cas struggles but he’s unable to pull himself out of the person’s powerful grip. They drag him outside and push him down onto the cold concrete.  His body aches all over, and suddenly terror grips him at what he’s gotten himself into.  Alastair and his friends are Rugby players.  They’re strong, that’s a given, but they’re also ruthless, and wouldn’t hesitate to give him a good beating in full view of the entire school.  Someone delivers a painful kick to his stomach and he screams out in pain.  Still, he opens his eyes and stares up at his tormenters.  

“You’re all sick,” he spits out.  He can taste blood in his mouth and he spits it out, finally pulling himself up to a sitting position.  

Alastair walks up to him and grins.  “I can’t wait to show you how sick I am,” he says.  He reaches down to pull Cas toward him but Cas slaps him away and quickly stands.

The cool air feels good on his skin and he knows he must look terrible but he doesn’t care. He lunges for Alastair again with a growl, the two of them pushing against each other, struggling for dominance.

Some of the partygoers have spilled outside to watch the fight, but this time they stand back, not getting too close.  They hover around the edges, all of them oddly fascinated by what is happening in front of them, though none of them know _why_ it’s happening. 

In the distance, Cas hears the rumble of a car engine and the desperate squeal of tires on asphalt, but he ignores it, choosing to focus on Alastair instead. He’s glad to see that Alastair looks like shit, with a busted lip and what looks like the beginnings of a black eye.  There’s also a bruise on his right cheek and there’s blood on his chin.  Castiel smiles. 

“You deserve this,” he spits.

Alastair grins at him.  “Does he know you’re doing this?” he hisses. 

Castiel shoves Alastair hard and shrugs.  “That’s none of your fucking business.”

Alastair stumbles back and laughs.  “And what do you think will happen if all these people find out about what happened to him?” he asks. 

Castiel falls back and stops.  He doesn’t want to think about it, about what would happen if people found out, about how Dean would react. “You wouldn’t.”

Alastair grins and shrugs.  “Maybe I would.”

“Then everyone would know what a piece of shit you are,” Cas shoots back.  “And that little college scholarship you’ve been counting on…well, I’m sure that would be off the table, right?” he asks.

For the first time, a flicker of fear ripples across Alastair’s features.  “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says.

Castiel laughs. “But I do.  If any of this gets out, it’s over for you and you know it.”

Alastair observes him for a second and then he screams.  He charges for Cas again, his face screwed up in anger.

Cas braces himself for impact, but nothing happens.  Instead, Alastair falls to the ground when someone shoves him roughly from his side.  When Cas looks up, his eyes go wide as saucers. 

It’s Dean, and he is _furious_.  His cheeks are red and his hands are curled into fists. His chest heaves up and down as he stares at Alastair, his green eyes furrowed in anger. 

“Dean-” Cas begins.

“Come on Cas, let’s go,” Dean says. 

Cas makes a face. “What?”

“Enough of this, please,” Dean says softly. 

Cas stares at him, dumbstruck, and then he nods.  He glances at Alastair once more who is pulling himself up to a standing position and dusting off his clothes. 

Alastair stares at Dean, a little smile on his face.  “Hello, Dean,” he says.  He begins to move forward but Dean extends a hand.

“You take one more step Alastair and I swear to God, what Cas did to you will seem like nothing. Did you forget my father is a soldier?” he asks.  He walks up to Alastair and leans in close to him.  “You might have taken advantage of me when I was drunk, but I’m not now, I’ll kick your ass,” he growls. 

Cas is still close enough to hear the exchange and he feels a strange, fluttery feeling in his stomach that he can’t explain.  He can see people around them whispering to each other, all of them wondering what the hell was going on. 

Zach and Gordon exchange worried glances and finally, Gordon walks up to Alastair and places a hand on his shoulder.  “Al, let’s go.”

Alastair shrugs his arm off and glares at Dean.  He turns to Cas and spits out some blood onto the ground.  “This isn’t over,” he says softly, pointing to Cas. He turns around and heads back towards the house.  The small crowd of spectators part for him, like Moses and the Red Sea, and he disappears inside, the house swallowing him up whole. 

Dean turns around and looks at Cas.  “You okay?” he asks. 

Cas nods weakly, unable to do much else and glances around.  He sees Meg staring at him, a small smile on her face. He sees Cassie looking at him and Dean.  She waves at them and then turns to her friend, shaking her head.  The weight of what has just happened hits him and his knees feel weak.  Suddenly, he can’t look at Dean, he can’t face him.  He’s too ashamed.  So when he feels Dean searching for his hand, he looks over at him, bewildered. He allows Dean to thread their fingers together and slowly, they walk through the gates and toward the car.

“Dean, I’m sorry,” Cas says.  The words rush past his lips, a desperate plea for forgiveness.  He stops and looks at Dean.  He prepares himself for the worst, for a cold shoulder, for a look of disgust, but all he sees is…concern, and this confuses him.

Dean leans in and gently cups his cheek with his hand.  “Do you need to go to the hospital?” he asks softly. 

Cas quickly shakes his head.  “No, I’m fine, Dean.”

“Are you sure? Did they…” his voice trails off and he looks down at Cas’ torso. 

“I’ll be a little sore tomorrow but I’ll live,” he says with a shrug. 

“I feel like I should take you to the hospital.  At least let them look at you and make sure you’re not…bleeding internally or anything,” Dean says; his brows knitting together in worry.    

“I’m fine, Dean, seriously.  Plus, do you have any idea what my dad would do if he saw me like this?” he asks.

Dean regards him for a moment and then he sighs.  “Fine, let me take you home so I can clean you up.”

“Dean I…”

Dean leans in and kisses him.  It’s soft and gentle, and his tongue darts into Cas’ mouth experimentally.  Cas’ mouth tastes metallic, blood, he realizes, and he breaks the kiss, reaching up to cup his face with his hand once more. “Stop apologizing, Cas. Let’s go.”

* * *

They make it back to Dean’s house in record time and he immediately makes Cas strip out of his costume so he can survey the damage. 

Cas sits awkwardly on the edge of Dean’s bed, waiting for him to return with the First Aid kit. His side aches, a dull, throbbing pain, and he knows his face must be a mess.  He can’t bring himself to look into the mirror, not wanting to see the fruits of his labor. 

Dean comes back into the room with a first aid kit tucked beneath one arm and a bowl of hot water in one hand, and an icepack in the other.  He carefully places the bowl on the bedside table and then sits next to Cas.

“Do you feel dizzy or anything?  Headache?” Dean asks as he opens the first aid kit. 

Cas quickly shakes his head.  “Just…tired, and a little achy.”

Dean brings a cloth up to Cas’ lip and gingerly presses it against the small cut which had been bleeding earlier. 

Cas winces and Dean pauses. 

“Don’t be a baby,” he teases. 

“Not a baby,” Cas hisses. 

Dean takes his time and cleans up the wound.  When he’s finished, he applies a little dab of antiseptic cream and then moves on to the scratches on Cas’ cheek.  He goes through the motions of cleaning them and covering them with a thin layer of ointment to prevent any infection.  He’s suddenly glad that his mother had taught him how to do all of these things, and he feels a strange sense of calm come over him as his hands take over.  He gently cleans Cas’ nose, wiping away the dried blood that had crusted inside of it. “How’s your nose? Think it’s broken?” he asks. 

Cas shrugs.

Dean gingerly presses down on the area around it but Cas doesn’t react. “It doesn’t seem swollen or anything, it would be if it were broken,” he observes.

There’s a little dark bruise beneath Cas’ left eye which is slowly swelling.

Dean reaches for the icepack and gently presses it against Cas’ eye.  “You’re gonna have to hold it there for a while. There’s not much we can do about it now.  How’s your vision?” Dean asks. 

“I can see just fine,” Cas murmurs.  “How do you know all this shit?” he asks as he closes his eyes. 

Dean cocks an eyebrow.  “My mother is a nurse,” he says flatly. 

Cas chuckles and nods.  “That makes sense.” He opens his other eye and observes Dean who is packing the supplies back into the kit.  “Why aren’t you mad at me?” he asks quietly.

Dean pushes his glasses up on the bridge of his nose and shuts the first aid kit. He places it on the bedside table and then looks at Cas.  “Who said I wasn’t mad at you?” he asks. 

The blood from Cas’ face drains and he hangs his head in shame.  He can feel tears sting at his eyes and suddenly, the dull throbbing pain in his side is nothing compared to the ache in his chest.

“I love you,” Dean says softly.

Cas looks up, tears threatening to spill over the edges of his eyes and onto his face. “What?”

Dean smiles, and his cheeks redden.  “I…I think I love you, Cas,” he mumbles. 

A tear falls and runs down Cas’ cheek.  “I…”

Dean reaches forward and wipes the tear away with his thumb.  “What you did was stupid.  I don’t need you to protect me, Cas.  I don’t want you to feel like you have to.  I just want you to…” his voice trails off and he smiles.  “I don’t need you to be my dad,” he says. 

Cas sniffles. “I’m sorry, Dean, I knew I shouldn’t have done it I just…I couldn’t help it.  I hate him so much for what he did to you.”

Dean nods. “I know.  So do I. But fighting with him isn’t gonna change anything. It’s not gonna make him any less of an asshole.  And it’s not gonna erase what happened last year.”

The words hang heavy between them and Cas looks up at him.  “I hope you don’t think that I think less of you because of what happened, because I don’t.”

Dean smiles. “I know.”

Cas suddenly frowns.  “I just realized I lost my hat,” he says.

Dean laughs. “What was your costume supposed to be anyway?”

Cas blushes and rubs the back of his neck.  “Zorro…”

Dean laughs again. “Okay, Zorro.  Do you want to shower? I’ll get you some clothes,” he says.  He begins to get off the bed but Cas reaches for him and pulls him back. 

“You know, I forgot to tell you that…you standing up to Alastair…it was pretty hot,” he says.

Dean flushes and he can feel his ears burn.  “Really?” he asks. 

“Uh huh,” Cas murmurs.  He leans in for a kiss, gentle and soft, dropping the ice pack on the bed so he can move in closer. 

“Cas you need to keep that on your eye,” Dean scolds. 

Cas snorts at him and kisses him again.  “Okay, mom.” He can feel his cock hardening, blood rushing from his head, making him a little dizzy.  He can hear Dean’s voice in his head from when he stood up to Alastair and thinking about it only makes him harder. He wants nothing more than to have Dean inside of him, and the thought of it shocks him a little. All this time he had been anticipating being the one to top when him and Dean finally decided to have sex, but tonight, he feels something he hasn’t felt in a long time, the need to have someone inside of him. “Dean,” he mumbles, his voice thrumming with need. He pulls back to look into Dean’s eyes and he sees that they are cloudy with desire.  “Dean I need you to…” his voice trails off.

Dean licks his lips.  “What do you need, Cas?” he asks, his voice barely above a whisper. 

“Want you inside me,” Cas says. 

Dean looks at Cas, his breath hitching in his throat.  “Cas, I’ve never…I want to, but…I’ve never…”

Cas nods. “I know, Dean, if you don’t want to it’s okay…” he says, doing his best not to sound too disappointed. He decides that when he goes into the shower, he would try to fuck himself on his fingers, at least that would give him some kind of temporary reprieve until he could go home and pull out his dildo that he hasn’t touched since he moved.  He begins to pull away from Dean.  He’s caused him enough distress as it is. Maybe it’s time for him to end this, he thinks.  But as he begins to move, Dean reaches out and holds on to him. 

“Hey, hey, wait. Slow down, Cas. Don’t leave,” he says.

“It’s okay, Dean…I know this is difficult for you,” Cas says gravely.  “And I’ve put you through enou—”

Dean shuts him up with a kiss.  When they finally end it, Dean smiles at him.  “I didn’t say I didn’t _want_ to, I’ve just…never done it before, Cas. I’m nervous.” 

Cas looks up at him, eyes wide. 

“Plus you’re hurt…I don’t want to…hurt you or anything…” Dean says with a little blush.

Cas smiles and shakes his head.  “So then we’ll go slow,” he murmurs. 

They stare into each other’s eyes and then finally Dean nods.  “Okay, we’ll go slow.”

* * *

True to their word, they go slow. 

Dean spends a lot of time prepping Cas, his hands trembling as he slicks his fingers up with lube,  slowly sliding them into Cas’ heat. 

Cas whimpers softly and bites down on his bottom lip, his cheeks slowly becoming flushed and red as Dean gently stretches him open. 

Dean is in awe, at the feeling of Cas’ tightness around his fingers, the way he swallows him up, the way he spreads his legs, the hardness of his own cock pressed against his thigh.  He’s overwhelmed by sensation, by the little breathy gasps escaping from Cas’ mouth. He can’t help but wonder what it will feel like, to have his cock enveloped by Cas’ heat, to feel him so close to him, to be so…intimate with him. 

“More, Dean,” Cas whines.  He shifts on the bed, finally opening his eyes.  His pupils are blown wide, hazy with desire. 

Dean nods and tentatively adds a third finger, slowly sliding it up past the tight ring of muscle.  He gingerly begins to slide them in and out, fucking Cas and smiling when Cas clenches his hole down around on his fingers.  He still can’t get over how beautiful Cas looks like this, the delicate flush of his cheeks and the way his lips parted.  He is suddenly grateful that Cas has decided to share himself like this, and he swallows thickly against a knot forming in his throat. He is suddenly overwhelmed by the urge to kiss Cas, and so he slowly removes his fingers from Cas’ hole, laughing when Cas whines and leans over to kiss him. 

“Want you inside me, Dean,” Cas murmurs as they kiss. 

Dean nods, his head spinning, and he takes a deep breath.  “How?” he asks. 

Cas’ eyes shoot open and he squints.  “I can sit in your lap,” he says with a wry grin. 

Immediately, Dean blushes, and his cheeks and ears heat up.  He kisses Cas again and then he nods, secretly relieved that he doesn’t have to actually be the one to _fuck_ Cas.  He had been nervous about it, and all of his hours of watching porn had seemingly melted from his mind. “Are you, um…ready? Like…open enough?” he asks awkwardly.

Cas smiles and nods.  “Yes, Dean.”

Dean pulls back and sits up and watches as Cas reaches over onto the bedside table for a condom and the little bottle of lube. 

Cas tosses the condom to Dean and uncaps the bottle of lube, drizzling some onto his fingers and then guiding them down to his hole. 

Dean watches, fascinated, as Cas inserts two fingers into himself, widening and stretching and moaning softly.  With trembling fingers, Dean rips open the condom packet and slowly slides the condom onto his cock. 

Cas looks up when he’s ready and he nods. 

Dean’s heart begins to pound awfully loud, and they switch places, Dean scooting back toward the pillows and sitting up, stroking his cock with his fist and watching as Cas makes his way over to him. 

Eventually, with some awkward fumbling in the way and lots of laughter, Cas manages to climb into Deans lap and slowly begins to sink down onto his cock.

Dean’s jaw drops and it’s his turn to let out a gasp.  It’s nothing like he expected, and his head lolls back for a moment before Cas reaches in for a kiss. 

Cas sinks down onto Dean’s cock, taking his time, enjoying the look of surprise and wonder on Dean’s face.  When he is finally fully seated, he leans in and kisses Dean, groaning at finally being full.

“Oh my God, Cas,” Dean moans. 

Cas grins wickedly and begins to roll his hips, riding Dean’s cock. 

It’s slow and gentle, and Dean reaches up to softly brush his fingers against the bruise beneath Cas’ eye.  He trails his fingers down to his cheeks, then to his jaw, trailing them down to his neck, to his collarbone. He wraps his hands around Cas’ arms, squeezing down on them as he feels his orgasm getting closer. Without thinking, he reaches down and begins to stroke Cas’ cock. 

Cas groans and places his arms on Dean’s shoulders, clasping his hands behind Dean’s neck, moaning softly as Dean brought him closer to orgasm.  He closes his eyes and leans forward for a kiss. The moment their lips touch, Dean comes, and his entire body jerks in response.  Cas bites down lightly on Dean’s bottom lip and moments later, he comes.  His heart is racing in his chest and he slumps forward, suddenly aware of how tired he really is.  He presses his forehead against Dean’s and smiles weakly.  “Not too shabby,” he teases.

Dean rolls his eyes but laughs.  “Shut up,” Dean says, blushing.  “You need to take a shower,” Dean says.

Cas pulls back and looks at him.  He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively.  “Are you coming with me?”

Dean rolls his eyes again and laughs. 

* * *

After their shower, Dean fusses over Cas for a while, asking if he is hungry and giving him Tylenol to help with whatever aches and pains he has.  He applies more ointment to Cas’ cuts and gently brushes his fingers across the darkening bruises and when he’s finally satisfied he puts the first aid kit away and slides into bed next to Cas.

“Are we okay now, Nurse Winchester?” Cas asks.

Dean huffs out a laugh and removes his glasses.  “Yes, I’m satisfied,” he says.  “How’s your eye feel?”

“Like a fucking tomato,” Cas grouses angrily.  He hands Dean the icepack who puts it on the bedside table, then he curls up against Dean’s side, resting his head on Dean’s chest. 

Dean reaches over and turns off the lamp and the room is dipped in darkness. There’s a faint light coming from the clock on Dean’s dresser, and the only sound they can hear is the sound of each other’s breathing, soft and steady. 

“Dean…” Cas begins.

“Yeah, Cas?”

“I’m really sorry,” he says softly. 

Dean takes a deep breath and sighs.  “I know, Cas.”

They lapse into another silence, and Cas begins to trace imaginary shapes on Dean’s chest with the tip of his finger.  “Dean?” he says again.

Dean smiles. “Yeah, Cas?”

Cas snuggles up closer to him and closes his eyes.  “I love you,” Cas whispers. 

The words wrap themselves around Dean’s heart and squeezes down on it. He feels a lump forming in his throat and he closes his eyes.  He wraps an arm around Cas’ shoulder and pulls him closer. 

“I love you too, Cas.”

Cas falls asleep within minutes, but Dean remains awake, declarations of love buzzing around in his head like bees. 

* * *

Miles away, Lilith finds herself cleaning up Alastair’s wounds, biting back a smile when he winces visibly. 

“Take it easy,” he snaps. 

Lilith glares at him but says nothing.  “Why do you always do this?” she asks finally. 

Alastair looks at her and then waves her away.  “I’m fine, enough.”

Over in the corner of the room, Gordon sits in a plush chair, his costume looking rumpled and wrinkled.  His mask is perched on his head and he glances over at Alastair.  “What the fuck was wrong with that kid?” he asks.

Alastair shrugs. “He’s a fucking faggot, who the hell knows,” he spits nastily.    

Lilith bristles and smiles thinly.  “I’m leaving,” she says. 

Alastair rolls his eyes but doesn’t say anything to her.  He watches as she tosses the bloody rag on the ground next to the first aid kit and walks out of the room, slamming the door behind her.

“She’s mad,” Gordon says.

“She’s always mad about something,” Alastair says dismissively. 

“He got you good, though,” Gordon says with a grin. 

Alastair laughs. “He caught me by surprise,” he says dryly.  Alastair rubs his hand on his chin and runs his tongue along his bottom lip, enjoying the stinging sensation.  “He’s gonna be sorry he ever fucked with me,” he says softly.

Gordon looks up at him, an odd expression on his face.  “Look, man, we’re about to graduate in a few months. Just let it slide,” he says.

Alastair snorts and glances down at the bloodstained rag on the floor.  His blood is bright red against the white of the cloth. His eye is swollen and his lip throbs but it’s a delicious pain.  If Castiel thinks for one second that this is over, he’s wrong. He picks up his glass and swallows the rest of the bitter whiskey sitting at the bottom.  It burns on the way down and settles angrily in the pit of his stomach. 

“You good, man?” Gordon asks.

Alastair looks at him and smiles.  His mouth tastes like blood and whiskey.  “Never been better.”     

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this chapter took forever! I hope you all enjoyed it. Let me know what you think! Thanks!! And if there were any errors/mistakes, I do apologize!


	14. Mise En Abyme

The kitchen is warm.  

Mary’s hands are covered in sticky dough, and the room smells like lasagna and garlic.She glances at the clock on the stove - it’s almost seven, which means she still has enough time to run upstairs and freshen up before Ellen and Jo arrive for dinner.  

Behind her, Sam sits at the table puzzling over his math homework.She turns around to look at him and smiles when she realizes that he’s poking his cheek with his pencil.She remembers her own mother chiding her for doing the exact same thing as a child.  

“Need any help?” she asks.

Sam swishes through some pages in his notebook and sighs loudly.“Nah, it’s okay.I’m almost done.”

Mary resumes her kneading and allows silence to settle over them once more.It’s a comfortable silence, and neither of them feel the need to fill it, content with being near each other and not needing to speak.“So…how’s…Jess?” Mary asks. She bites down on the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing at the sharp intake of breath from behind her.  

“She’s um, she’s good,” Sam stutters.  

Mary hums.“Will you be inviting her over for dinner any time soon?” she asks. She glances at him and laughs when she sees that he’s red in the face.  

Sam shrugs and runs his fingers through his hair.“I don’t know, mom. We’re not dating or anything,” he says awkwardly.  

Mary makes a face and turns around.“Aw, that’s too bad,” she says. “Well, you’re welcome to bring her by, any time you like,” she says. She turns her attention back to the dough, soft and sticky, clinging to her fingers.  

The doorbell rings interrupting the silence once more.Mary frowns, Ellen and Jo aren’t due to arrive for at least another hour.

“Sammy, could you get the door?” she asks without looking up from her mixing bowl.  

Sam quickly throws down his pencil onto his notebook and rushes out of the kitchen.  

Mary smiles and begins to hum softly below her breath.She hasn’t felt this relaxed in a long, long time.She hasn’t heard from John since he had visited all those weeks ago, and she has finally taken off her wedding ring.She pictures it for a moment, tucked into the folds of an old ring box, now collecting dust on her dresser.She is taken back to when John proposed, the way the ring had glittered and winked at her with such promise.Now, it’s just a hunk of meaningless metal. _No, not meaningless_ , she thinks.She glances back towards the table where she sees Sam’s homework strewn all across it. _Most definitely not meaningless_ , she thinks with a smile.

“Mom?” 

“Who’s at the door?Is it Ellen and Jo already?They’re early.”

Sam’s expression is grim and he shakes his head.“No, it’s not them…it’s a…delivery guy?He needs you to sign something for…some paperwork, it looks like,” he says softly.  

Mary swallows thickly and nods.“Okay, I’ll…just go do that, then,” she says with a weak smile.She turns on the faucet and quickly washes her hands.She wipes them on an old dishtowel, pausing for a moment on her ring finger.She can still see the outline of the wedding band on her skin, a pair of thin lines running parallel to each other.  

She already knows what’s waiting for her at the door.  

* * *

“Cas, stop, come on I need to go home,” Dean says softly.  

Cas giggles and kisses Dean again.“Why?” he asks.He pulls back and pouts.“Stay with me.”

Dean sighs and shifts his weight on the bed.He looks up at Cas and is pleased to see that the swelling in his eye is gone.  

It’s been about a month since the skirmish at the Halloween party, and there’s the shadow of a bruise on Castiel’s cheek.He had reluctantly gone to the doctor for a check up when his father had found out about what had happened.Doctor Turner had cleared him, but sent him home with a good scolding for his reckless behavior.His father, on the other hand, had shot him a wry grin and told him that he hoped the other person had looked just as bad as he did. 

“I would but, Jo and Ellen are coming over later and I promised my mom I would be there for dinner.Why don’t you come and eat with us?I’m sure my mom would love to see you,” he says with a grin.“Plus, it’s not like your dad is rushing home any time soon to make you a warm meal.”

Cas looks down and laughs.“True.Does that bother you?” 

Dean pushes his glasses up on the bridge of his nose.“What?Your dad being an absentee parent?”

Cas runs his fingers through his hair and nods.“Yes.”

Dean huffs out a laugh and lies back onto Cas’ pillows.“Man you really need some new pillows.These are so flat.”

“You’re avoiding the question,” Cas says dryly.  

Dean shrugs.“Well, I can’t say that I haven’t had extremely detailed fantasies about calling Child Services and handing him over to the authorities,” he says with a little laugh.  

Cas crosses his legs and frowns.“So it _does_ bother you.”

Dean squints and sits up.“Of course it does.You coming home to a giant empty house, bothers me.You not getting a hot meal at the end of the day bothers me.You not eating breakfast, bothers me.You’re basically raising yourself.”

“I’m not a baby, Dean. I’m going to be eighteen next year.I should know how to take care of myself, and I do,” Cas says.  

Dean props himself up on his elbows to get a better look at his boyfriend.  

When Cas catches his gaze, he lumbers over to him and lies down, pressing his head against Dean’s arm. 

Dean lies back down and allows Cas to snuggle closer to him.The simple intimacy of the moment rocks him to his core.If anyone had told him a couple months ago that he would be here, he would have laughed in their face.Sometimes, he has to pinch himself to make sure he’s not dreaming.“I know you’re not a baby, Cas, it’s just…I just want you to…you know, be taken care of,” he says awkwardly. 

Cas hums and smiles.“You can take care of me,” he replies sleepily. 

Dean can’t help but smile.“Come over for dinner.”

Cas blows a raspberry against his arm in response. 

* * *

Mary signs the receipt from the courier with a steady hand.  She accepts the package from him with a strained smile and when she closes the door, she leans up against it and closes her eyes.  The envelope feels heavy in her hand, but the wood is sturdy behind her back.  She doesn’t even need to open the package to know what’s inside.

A part of her is relieved, and another part is annoyed, annoyed that John couldn’t wait till after Christmas to do this.  

“Mom?” 

Mary looks up and sees Sam standing in the doorway down the hall.She smiles at him and clutches the envelope tightly to her chest.  

“Are you okay?” 

Mary nods and pulls herself away from the door, hoping to God that her knees don’t give out on her as she walks down the hall.“Everything is fine, Sam.Are you finished with your homework? I could use some help in the kitchen,” she says.She reaches down to ruffle his hair affectionately. 

Sam smiles thinly and nods.He watches as his mother walks over to the staircase going up to the second floor.  

“Will you call Dean and find out what time he’s gonna be home?” Mary asks as she begins to ascend the stairs.  

Sam’s eyes linger on the envelope in his mother’s hand.“Sure,” he says softly.He pulls out his cell phone from his pocket and calls Dean.  

* * *

“Sammy thinks it’s divorce papers,” Dean says as he bends over to tie his shoelaces.  

Cas is sitting on the steps smoking a cigarette, little curls of smoke melting into the air around his head.“What do you think?”

Dean concentrates for a few moments on his laces.He doesn’t know _what_ to think.He’s not surprised, but he’s worried about his mother.He knows that even though she puts on a strong front, she’s still human, and as much as she says the whole situation doesn’t bother her, he knows it’s not true.“I think…they might be.I mean we all knew it was coming, it was just a matter of time.”He plops down next to Cas and nudges him with his shoulder.“You shouldn’t be smoking.”

“Okay, mom,” Cas says.He takes a last pull on the cigarette and throws it down onto the ground. 

“Are you sure you don’t want to come over for dinner?” Dean asks.  

Cas smiles.“I’m sure.I have a lot of homework to catch up on, and I’m sure you do too.”

Dean makes a face.“Don’t remind me.”He leans in and rests his head on Cas’ shoulder.  

Cas reaches for his hand and they entwine their fingers.“Stay with me, Dean,” Cas murmurs.  

Above them, the sky is slowly changing color, from a bright, vibrant blue, to a more dusty, purple.In the distance, the sun has already began to sink below the horizon, setting the sky aflame.The dried up leaves in the trees whisper and shake as the breeze blows through them.  

“I’m always with you,” Dean says softly.He pulls back and turns to face Cas.They’re so close, he can see the little creases on his soft, pink lips.He can count Cas’ eyelashes in the rapidly fading light, and when he looks into Cas’ eyes, he feels something flutter in his chest.  

“That’s really romantic, Dean,” Cas teases. 

“Shut up and kiss me, Novak,” Dean says with a little laugh.  

Cas reaches forward to remove Dean’s glasses, and then he leans in for a kiss.  

For a moment, Dean is able to forget everything, all of the problems and issues that has been weighing down on him.When they finally pull apart, Dean moves back and allows Cas to slip his glasses back onto his face.  

Cas reaches forward and lightly pinches the little crease between Dean’s eyebrows, right above his glasses.“You worry too much, you’re gonna get wrinkles.”

Dean blushes and grins.“You ever heard that Beatles song?” he asks. 

Cas makes a face.“Which one?”

“ _Will you still need me, will you still feed me, when I’m sixty-four?”_ Dean sings. 

“I didn’t know you could sing,” Cas teases with a little smile. 

Dean rolls his eyes and groans.  

“ _You’ll be older too_ … _and if you say the word…I could stay with you…_ ” Cas sings in a gruff voice.  

Dean turns to him, his eyes as wide as saucers.“Cas…” his voice trails off. 

“What?You think you’re the only person who listens to The Beatles?” he asks with a little scoff.  

Dean grins and he reaches forward to gently brush his thumb across the old bruise on Cas’ cheek.  

“My mom listened to them all the time,” Cas says. “Not so much anymore but…when I was younger.”

“When things were easier?” Dean asks softly.He smiles at Cas and reaches up to lightly ruffle his hair.

Cas hums and closes his eyes, a small smile on his lips.“Are you sure you don’t want to stay?” 

“Are you sure you don’t want to come with me?” 

Cas shifts and opens his eyes.“I’m sure.You go take care of your mom, she needs you more than I do.” 

Dean smiles wanly and looks up into the sky.He can see some stars beginning to twinkle in the sticky web of purple and black above him.  

“Gonna make a wish?” Cas asks with a little chuckle. 

Dean turns to him and grins.“I already have everything I need.”

“What about the things you want?” 

Dean leans in and presses a soft kiss against Cas’ lips.It’s warm and soft and sweet.Dean moans into Cas’ mouth and when they finally pull apart, Dean tilts forward, his forehead resting lightly against Cas’.“I already have what I want too.”

Castiel smiles.  

* * *

“Oh, no Mary, I couldn’t eat another bite!” Ellen exclaims.  

Mary waves her away and gets up from her seat.“Nonsense.I made this lasagna just for you, and I know how much Jo loves it too.”

Jo goes red in the face and she laughs.“Thanks Mrs. W.Can I have some for school tomorrow?For lunch?” she asks.  

“Of course! I’ll get you some Tupperware.” 

“I’ll help you clean up,” Ellen chimes in.  

Dean glances at Sam and then at Jo.“Uh, actually, we were thinking we could clean up,” he says awkwardly.  

Mary pauses and looks at Dean.“Oh.That’s okay, honey.”

“No, mom, it’s fine.You did all this work.We’ll clean up,” Sam says. 

“Yeah, Mrs. W, it’s totally cool,” Jo says.

Mary looks at Ellen and laughs.“It looks like our kids are growing up.”

Ellen grins and gets up from her seat.“It would seem so.  

“Well I have coffee and some crumb cake if you want to go into the living room, Ellen. We can relax and let the…kids handle stuff back here,” Mary says with a little laugh.  

“That sounds great.I’ll get the coffee.”

“And I’ll get the cake.”

Dean watches as his mother and Ellen disappear into the kitchen, talking quietly amongst themselves.He turns to his brother and squints at him.“She looks fine, Sammy.Are you sure—”

“What else would it be, Dean?Yeah, of course she _looks_ fine.She’s just putting on a happy face.”

“What’s going on?” Jo asks. 

“We’ll tell you in a minute,” Dean says.He gets up and begins to clear the table.They linger around, waiting for Ellen and Mary to leave the kitchen.They talk about school and comic books until their mothers have retired to the living room with their cake and coffee.  

Dean goes into the kitchen and begins to rinse off the leftover food from the plates, while Jo puts some lasagna into a little plastic container.  

Sam is scooping the leftover veggies into a bowl, chewing on his bottom lip.  

“So are you nerds gonna tell me what’s going on?” Jo asks.  

Sam looks up at Dean and Dean nods at him before turning his attention back to the dishes.  

“Our mom got some paperwork in the mail today.I think it’s divorce papers, but she hasn’t said anything yet,” Sam says in a low voice. 

Jo’s hand shakes as she scoops some sauce off the bottom of the dish and onto her lasagna.“Oh…shit,” she says.“What are you gonna do?”

Dean shrugs and squeezes some soap onto a sponge.“What _can_ we do? We just have to…wait I guess.”

“It’s fucked up that he couldn’t wait till after Christmas,” Sam says with a bitter shake of his head.  

“Maybe that’s his Christmas present to his kid,” Dean says. 

Jo lets out a little squeak and almost drops the spoon in her hand.“His _kid_?What the hell are you talking about?”

Dean laughs dryly and shakes his head.“Oh, you have a lot to catch up on.”

“Well then, start talking,” Jo says.She walks over to the cupboard and begins to rattle around for another plastic container.  

Dean glances at her, her blond hair pulled back into a no-nonsense ponytail.The set of her jaw as she searches for the Tupperware reminds him so much of his mother he stops washing and swallows thickly.He imagines his mother when she was young, when she had first met John, how she must have felt, so excited to start her new life with the man she loved.  

He doesn’t know if he will ever forgive his father for the pain he has caused her.Blinking away tears, he turns back to the dishes, watching as the suds swirl around in the sink and get sucked into the drain.  

“Our dad has another son, a kid named Adam,” Sam says softly.  

Silence settles over them and the only sound in the kitchen is the soft clinking of dishes in the sink.  

* * *

“So…have you told the boys?” Ellen asks.  She takes a sip of her coffee and leans over to place it on the ledge of the porch banister.  

Mary takes a deep breath and shakes her head.A light breeze ruffles through her hair and she pulls her sweater tighter around her shoulders.Even though it’s chilly outside, she’s glad that they aren’t inside.All evening, she pasted a smile onto her face.She cooked and baked and served Ellen and Jo food and drinks.She kissed her sons on their cheeks and hugged them, doing her best to keep them from asking any questions, from knowing that there was a tempest brewing in her chest.  

But now, outside, she feels as though she can finally breathe.She pulls cold air into her lungs and lets out a bitter chuckle.“They knew that this was going to happen I just…” her voice trails off and she bites down on the inside of her cheek.There’s a tightness in her throat, and when she feels Ellen’s hand reaching for hers, she finally breaks down.“I failed them, Ellen, I failed my boys…I…I couldn’t save my marriage…” her voice trails off and tears begin to roll down her cheeks.  

“Oh sweetie.This isn’t your fault.This is not your fault,” Ellen says.She squeezes down on Mary’s hand and shakes her head. “John did what he did, he fucked up.It happens.I’m not telling you to just get over it, but I’m telling you that…you…” 

“I fucked up, Ellen.My kids…they’re gonna think I’m…”

“No, no, your kids love you.You’re such a good mom.You’ve been on your own for so long.And these papers?They don’t mean a damned thing.They can’t erase all the time you’ve spent taking care of your boys.And they’re damn fine boys if I might say so myself.You did all of that on your own.” 

Mary sniffles and laughs.“I’m acting like a teenager,” she says. 

“No, you’re acting like a woman who’s getting a divorce. It’s okay, you’re allowed to feel this way,” Ellen soothes.  

Mary’s breath hitches in her throat and she closes her eyes for a moment, allowing herself to take comfort in the soft circles Ellen is rubbing onto her hand.Rationally, she knows that everything Ellen has said to her is true, still, the divorce papers feel like the final blow to her already shaky foundation.She’s exhausted, and for the first time in a long time, she wishes there was someone waiting for her in her bed, a warm body to curl up against.She wishes there was someone to hold her, someone to sleep next to.  

She’s so tired of being alone.  

She turns to Ellen, her best friend, one of her main sources of strength during these last couple of years.She finds herself staring at the other woman’s mouth, wondering what it would feel like pressed up against her own.Slowly, she inches forward, licking her own lips tentatively, eyes flicking up to look at Ellen to gauge her response.  

She can hear the blood rushing through her ears and she wonders if she’s making a mistake. 

* * *

Dean and Jo have migrated upstairs to his room.  

Jo is lying on his bed, her eyes closed, arms folded across her chest.Sam had gone into his own room, claiming he had some homework to finish, but both Dean and Jo knew better, and so they let him go so he could talk to Jessica on the phone in peace.  

“Why’d you wait so long to tell me?” Jo asks as she opens one eye.  

Dean sighs loudly and shrugs.He walks over to the bed and plops down at the foot of it, pulling his legs up off the ground and folding them Indian style.“I dunno.It’s not something I felt like talking about.”

Jo sucks her teeth and nudges him lightly with her foot.“You’re such a butthole.”

“Show respect to your elders!” Dean teases. 

Jo sits up and makes a face at him.“Uh, you’re only a year older than me, you fucking nerd,” she says with a little laugh. 

“Still older than you,” he says.He pushes his glasses up on the bridge of his nose and yawns.“Anyway, you’ve known for a long time that my dad is a huge turd so, what’s the big deal?”

Jo stares at him, perplexed.“The big deal? The big deal is that your parents are getting divorced, Dean.This is official.This is real.Your mom…she’s tough lady but, she’s…fuck.I feel so bad.She doesn’t deserve this,” Jo says softly.  

Dean scoffs at her.“You’re telling me?” 

Jo chews on her bottom lip and then she flops back down onto Dean’s pillows.“So, um, how’s your friend?” she asks. 

Dean grimaces.Jo is like his little sister and just like with Sam, he has no desire to discuss his relationship with Cas with her.“Ew, none of your business.”

She nudges him with her foot again.“Not your _boyfriend_ , you jerk.You know the one…the redhead…” she says softly.  

It takes Dean a couple beats to realize what Jo is asking him, or rather, _who_ she’s asking him about: Charlie.Jo had met Charlie a couple times, but seeing as Jo didn’t go to the same school as them, she only saw her whenever they both ended up at Dean’s house for some reason or the other.A wry smile spreads across Dean’s face and he chuckles.“Charlie, huh?”

Jo sits up again and squints at him.“What? So I can’t ask how she’s doing? Is it a crime now?”

“Do you have a crush on her?” he asks. 

Jo sputters indignantly.“What? No.Are you kidding.She’s…a major nerd.”

Dean laughs.“And? I’m a major nerd.”

“Yeah but I’m not into you, so…” her voice trails off and she folds her arms across her chest.  

Dean hums and shakes his head.“I really don’t care if you’re into her, Jo.I mean if you wanna hang out with her or something, just let me know, I’ll talk to her.”

Jo stares at him, her eyes widening for a moment before returning back their normal size.“I’ll think about it,” she says as she swings her legs off the side of the bed.“I’m gonna get some juice, you want anything?” she asks. 

Dean shakes his head.“Nope.” He watches as Jo walks out his door, her hands in her pockets.“By the way, she likes you too!” Dean shouts once she’s down the hall. 

“Shut _up_ , Dean!” Jo screams.  

Dean laughs.  

* * *

Much to Mary’s surprise, Ellen leans into the kiss. 

It’s her first kiss in God knows how long, and a part of her brain wonders what would happen if one of the kids saw them.Fighting against all her instincts, she does her best to quiet the voices at the back of her mind, and enjoy the kiss.Ellen’s mouth is soft, and she tastes sweet, like coffee and cake.Mary smiles when she feels Ellen’s grip tighten on her wrist.Mary sighs softly, feeling something stir in her chest.  

Slowly, they pull apart.  

“I’m sorry, Ellen,” Mary says quickly.She stands up, licking her lips, noticing the way her hands are shaking at her sides.She presses her palms against the wood railing of the porch and she takes a deep breath.“I don’t know what came over me, I’m so sorry,” she apologizes.  

“Stop apologizing, please…”

Mary turns around, her bottom lip quivering.A small gust of wind blows, ruffling her hair around her face and as she blinks, several tears run down her cheeks.“I shouldn’t have done that.” 

Ellen gets up and walks over to her, wood creaking below her feet.Slowly, she curls her fingers around Mary’s wrists and she smiles.“I have been waiting _so long_ for you to do that,” she murmurs. 

Mary blinks and looks up at her.“What?”

Ellen smiles.“I didn’t want to push you, or rush you, you had a lot of stuff going on and…it just didn’t feel right, but I…I’m…I like you, Mary…I…”her voice trails off and she looks down.  

Mary sniffles and then she laughs.  

Ellen frowns and takes a step back, uncertain.“I…”

“Ellen, wait.I…I like you too.I’m just…kind of all over the place right now and I don’t think it would be fair to you to…drag you into this mess.”

Ellen stares at her blankly and then she smiles.“I’ve been in this mess with you for the past two years, Mary.There’s nothing you could throw at me now that would make me not want to be around you.” 

“But what about the kids? I mean…what are they gonna say? What are they gonna think?” 

Ellen leans in for another kiss, this one is a little more hesitant than before.Their lips brush - feather light, and Mary smiles.“Let’s take things one step at a time,” Ellen says. 

Mary closes her eyes and presses her forehead against Ellen’s, allowing the other woman to wrap her in her arms. Slowly her heartbeat returns to normal, and she inhales the soft scent of Ellen’s perfume.“I’ve always loved your perfume,” Mary murmurs. 

Ellen smiles, but does not respond.She doesn’t have to. 

* * *

It snows, finally, a week before Christmas.  

Dean and Cas are walking back to Cas’ house, when the first flakes begin to drift from the sky.  

Dean is the one who notices it, when a big snowflake flies into his nose.“Oh, _fuck_ ,” he says, swatting it away. 

Cas stops and observes him curiously.“What?”

Dean looks over at him and laughs.“A…snowflake just…flew into my nose hole,” he grumbles.  

A smile spreads across Cas’ face and he looks up into the sky.“It’s _snowing_?”He drifts away from Dean, staring up into the sky. 

A few feet away, Dean watches him, unsure of what to think.Over the past couple months, he’s seen a different side of Cas, one that he only shows to certain people, when he feels comfortable enough.The fact that Cas is openly gawking at the snow only serves to warm Dean’s heart even more and he stays a few steps behind, watching him with a tender smile on his face.  

Cas stops and waits for Dean to catch up to him.When he does, he reaches for his hand and threads their fingers together.“What do you want for Christmas, Dean?” he asks as they resume walking.  

There’s nothing that he really _wants_ , per se.He’s never been the kind of person who wanted things for themselves. He has always preferred to see the people around him happy, which in turn makes _him_ happy.“I don’t really know.What about you?” Dean asks. 

Castiel hums and stops walking.He turns to face Dean and smiles at him.The snow is picking up now, with bigger flakes whipping past them.There’s one melting on Dean’s eyelashes, and another one that has just drifted onto his cheek.“If I tell you, you’ll laugh at me.”

Dean frowns.“Well now you _have_ to tell me.”

Cas scuffs his boot in the thin layer of snow that has started to accumulate on the ground below their feet.“I’m not good at…expressing…things,” Cas begins. 

Dean opens his mouth to make a funny retort but decides against it.He presses his lips together and decides to listen to what Cas has to say.  

“I just wanted to tell you that the time I’ve spent with you…it’s all I really want.More time, with you,” Cas mumbles.He lowers his head and shoves his hands into his pockets.  

Dean reaches forward and tenderly cups Cas’ face in his hands.“That’s what I want too. Well, that and Batman The Long Halloween, mint condition,” he says with a little laugh. 

Cas rolls his eyes but he laughs.“Of course you do.”

Dean grins and kisses him.“So listen.I have something really important to ask you,” he says when they pull apart. 

Castiel’s brows knit together, questioningly.“Sure.”

Dean chews on his bottom lip and looks away.“I was wondering if…if you’d like to come over on Christmas Eve? And…maybe spend Christmas with us? If you don’t want to I would totally understand.”

Castiel’s brows raise in shock.“Oh.Well…” 

Dean flushes and rubs a hand behind his neck.“Like I said, I would understand if you don’t want to.”

“Dean—”

“I mean it’s totally okay.”

“Dean—”

“If you wanna stay—”

“Dean shut up.I would _love_ to spend Christmas with you and your family,” Cas says gently.

Dean blinks and takes a step back.“Wait, are you serious?” 

“Yes.I can come over on— _oof!_ ” he stops when Dean barrels into him, wrapping his arms around his middle and holding on to him tightly.  

“I’m so happy, Cas,” Dean mumbles into his neck. 

Castiel doesn’t know what to do and so he remains still for a moment, paying attention to the way his heart flips in his chest.Slowly, he lifts his arms and holds on to Dean, hugging him and smiling.He doesn’t know what he has done in his life to deserve Dean Winchester, but he’s sure as hell glad that he has found him.  

He squeezes Dean a little tighter and vows to hold onto him for as long as he can. 

* * *

True to his word, Cas comes over on Christmas Eve.  

They spend the evening in the kitchen, helping Mary bake cookies until Ellen and Jo show up with groceries for dinner.  

“Your mom seems okay,” Cas mumbles as they both plop down onto the couch.  

Dean nods.“Yeah, she does.I can’t explain it, man.I mean…she just…she seems really happy,” he says with a shrug.  

“Sup nerds,” Jo says as she sits down on the couch next to Dean.She stretches her legs out and props her feet on the coffee table.  

“Hello,” Cas says breezily. 

A loud peal of laughter rings from the kitchen, startling them all.  

Sam makes a face as he fiddles with the DVD player and turns around to look at them.  

Jo frowns and runs a hand through her hair.“Hey guys, has your mom been…like extra happy recently?” she muses.  

Dean shrugs.“Maybe she’s just getting in the Christmas spirit?” he asks. 

Jo hums.“I don’t know. Mom has been _really_ happy, it’s kinda weird.I came home after my curfew the other night and I caught her on the phone, but, she didn’t even yell at me,” she says.  

Sam chuckles dryly.“Yeah, I got a B- on a paper I did the other day and she didn’t rip me a new one like she usually does.”

“Nerd-tron got a B-? What is the world coming to?” Jo teases. 

Sam rolls his eyes and turns back to the DVD player.“Shut up.”

Cas snuggles in closer to Dean and closes his eyes.“Wouldn’t it be funny if your moms were dating?” he asks dryly. 

Dean chuckles and glances over at Jo who laughs nervously. 

Sam slowly turns around, his eyes wide.“Wait, what?” 

“What?” Dean asks. 

“What did Cas say about mom and Ellen?” Sam asks. 

“That it would be funny if they were…” Jo’s voice trails off and another burst of laughter erupts from the kitchen.  

“Oh my god, they totally are,” Dean says, sitting up quickly.  

Cas’ eyes pop open and he squints over at Dean.“I was joking,” he rumbles.  

“You’re just being paranoid.Your mom isn’t…gay,” Jo whispers hotly.  

Dean laughs.“That doesn’t mean anything,” he whispers back.  

Jo folds her arms across her chest.“Well, I mean…if they _are_ dating…does that bother you?” she asks.  

Dean looks at Cas and then he looks at Sam.“Sam?” 

Sam gives Dean his best bitch-face.“She asked you first!”

Dean throws his hands up and sighs loudly.“I honestly don’t care.If she’s happy, I’m happy,” he says.  

“Same,” Sam says with a little shrug.  

Jo glances between them and then she cocks an eyebrow.“How are we gonna figure it out?We can’t just ask them, can we?” 

Silence settles over them when suddenly Cas sits up.“I’ve got it,” he says. 

Sam looks over at him and frowns.“You’ve got what?”

Cas grins and wiggles his eyebrows.“A plan.”

* * *

Cas disappears and returns to the house about thirty minutes later, his cheeks red from the cold. 

Sam, Dean and Jo are sprawled off on the couch watching Home Alone, and when the door opens, Dean gets up and walks down the hall. 

“I was beginning to think you got lost,” he says as Cas takes off his coat.Dean hangs it for him and observes him as he kicks off his boots.“What did you get?” 

Cas grins.“Mistletoe.”

“Mistletoe? That was your big plan? Mistletoe?” Dean asks.  

Cas licks his lips and nods.“Yes.”

“Babe, I love you but, you suck at plans, I’m just saying,” Dean says.  

Cas laughs and nudges Dean closer to the wall.“Oh yeah?” he asks.He nuzzles Dean’s nose with his own and Dean giggles.  

“Yeah.Shitty plans, all the time,” Dean whispers.  

Cas kisses Dean and bites down on his bottom lip.  

“Gross, you two, get it together,” Jo snaps.She’s wearing a pair of reindeer antlers and has one hand resting on her hip.“Did you get what you went for?” 

Cas nods and pulls himself away from Dean.He pulls out a sprig of mistletoe from his coat pocket and wiggles it at Jo.“We put it in the kitchen doorway.If they get caught under it, then we just wait and see what happens.”

Dean laughs and shakes his head.“This is the worst plan in the history of plans.”

Jo takes the mistletoe from Cas and smiles at him.“Well, it’s the only plan we’ve got, so unless you have something to add to this conversation…”

“We could just ask them,” Dean says exasperatedly.  

“Shut up, Dean!” Jo whispers before walking away. 

“Yeah, shut up, Dean,” Cas teases.  

Dean grabs onto his hand before he can walk away and he grins.“Why don’t you shut me up?” he asks. 

Cas laughs and nods.“Gladly.”

* * *

Sam hangs the mistletoe in the little archway leading between the dining room and the living room.  The four of them whisper amongst themselves as to how they should proceed, Cas favors a more direct approach, while Dean prefers calling them out one at a time.  

“That makes no sense, Dean,” Sam whispers.  

“So what do you want to do?” he asks. 

Jo rolls her eyes.“Oh my god, you guys are unbelievable.Someone stand in the archway!” she orders.“We need an excuse for them to come look at something.”

“Pretend you have a splinter!” Sam suggests. 

“Good one, okay, umm, okay Sam, call them, Dean, Cas, you guys get outta here, it’s too suspicious if we’re all in here,” she says. 

Dean rolls his eyes but grabs Cas’ hand and drags him back into the living room.  

“Mom! Aunt Ellen, Jo has a splinter, can you guys come and check it out?” Sam says awkwardly. 

In the living room, Dean snorts. “Sam is a terrible liar,” he mutters.  

Cas laughs.  

They both lean forward, waiting for Mary and Ellen to emerge from the kitchen.Sure enough, a moment later, both women step into the dining room.Ellen immediately walks over to Jo, Mary a step behind her.  

“Are you alright, sweetie? What’s wrong?” Ellen asks. 

Jo pouts and waits for Mary to arrive and then she steps back.“It’s bad luck to not kiss under mistletoe!” she says. 

Ellen frowns and glances over at Mary.“What?” 

Jo points at the little sprig of mistletoe hanging above her mother and Mary and she grins.“I said, it’s bad luck if you don’t kiss.”

“Joanna Beth Harvelle…of all the things…” her mother says angrily.“I can’t believe you would do something like this…I…Mary I’m so sorry,” Ellen babbles. 

Mary glances at Jo and then at Ellen and then she smiles.“Ellen, Ellen it’s okay,” she says softly.  

“Mary this is your home, you don’t have to—”

Mary cuts her off with a kiss. 

Ellen blinks and then closes her eyes.She smiles and kisses Mary back.  

“Holy shit,” Dean mumbles. 

“Oh wow,” Cas says as he looks at them.He glances over at Dean and huffs.“Close your mouth.”

“I guess you were right,” Dean says.  

Cas cocks an eyebrow and turns to him.“Admit it.”

“Admit what?” 

“That I had a good plan,” Cas whispers.  

Dean rolls his eyes and punches Cas in the arm. 

* * *

Christmas Eve dinner rolls by without a hitch.  The house is warm and filled laughter, food, and happy people.  Ellen and Mary come clean about their budding relationship to their children, and they are met with a sweet acceptance of it all.  Sam and Jo push Dean and Cas under the mistletoe and take pictures of the two of them as they kiss.  Dean turns as red as a tomato and Cas teases him about it for the rest of the evening. 

After dinner is finished, they all retire to the living room where they watch National Lampoon’s and drink egg nog.Before long, Mary and Ellen have both fallen asleep on the love seat, Jo has drifted off on the recliner, and Sam is lightly snoring on the floor in front of the TV.Cas is sleeping as well, curled up in the corner of the couch.  

Dean slowly eases his way off his seat and tiptoes out of the living room and down the little hallway.He grabs Cas’ jacket and slips it onto his shoulders before going outside.After all of the food and the egg nog, he knows he should be tired but he just can’t bring himself to fall asleep.There’s too much on his mind.There’s the small matter of his mother and Ellen.He’s not even sure what’s happening between them but they both seem to be happy and so in turn, he’s happy for them.Still, it’s a little confusing, as it had come out of left field.  

He sits down on the porch and folds his arms across his chest.His heart feels full, and yet, he can’t explain why he feels…unsettled.He’s happy to be with his family, to be with Cas, but something still prickles uncomfortably at the back of his neck.

“Dean?” 

Dean turns around and smiles when he realizes who it is.“Hey.”

Sam yawns and sits down next to him, pulling his own sweater closer to his body.“What are you doing out here?” he asks with another yawn. 

Dean shrugs and glances over at his brother.“Just needed some air.”

Sam nods sleepily and then looks up at the sky.“Do you think mom is really happy with Ellen?” 

Dean chuckles.“I think she’s been happy with Ellen for a long time.She just didn’t know it.” 

Sam inches closer to him and scratches his chin. “Yeah, I think you’re right,” he says. “Are you and Cas happy?” Sam asks. 

Dean blinks and then he smiles.“Yeah.I think we are.We had a…bit of a rough start but…I think we’re happy.”

Sam turns to him, a thoughtful look on his face.“I’m really glad you and Cas are working things out.”

Dean reaches out to ruffle Sam’s hair.“Yeah, me too.” 

Sam smiles up at him.“Merry Christmas, Dean.”

Dean smiles. “Merry Christmas, Sammy.”

* * *

Dean wakes up to a pair of blue eyes boring a hole into his skull. 

“Merry Christmas, Dean,” Cas mumbles. 

Dean grins and buries his face in his hands.“Cas, why are you staring at me?” he asks, his voice muffled. 

Cas huffs out a little laugh and reaches up to pry Dean’s hands away from his face.“Because you’re cute,” Cas rumbles, his voice sounding like the ocean. 

Dean allows him to move his hands and he smiles as Cas threads their fingers together.“Merry Christmas, Cas,” Dean says. He yawns and snuggles closer to the warmth of his boyfriend’s body.“So, presents, and then you’re heading out to have lunch with your dad?” he asks sleepily. 

Cas nods. “Yeah.It’s the one thing he insists we do. I don’t know why.”

Dean snorts.“Because he loves you, you butt.” 

“Is that why you asked me to spend Christmas with you?” Cas asks softly. 

Dean opens his eyes and reaches out to trail his fingers along Cas’ cheek.“Yeah, because I…I love you,” he says quietly. 

Cas takes a deep breath and he blinks.It’s still difficult for him to wrap his mind around the fact that Dean feels so strongly about him, that he would go as far as to say that he…loved him.“Are you sure?” he asks with a little smile. 

Dean cards his fingers through Cas’ hair and nods solemnly.“More sure than I’ve ever been in my entire life.”

Cas grins and it’s all teeth and gums.“Well then, in that case, are you ready for presents?” he asks. 

Dean nods excitedly. 

Cas glances up at Dean’s door and squints at the knob to make sure it’s securely locked. When he’s satisfied, he gently brushes his hand against Dean’s soft cock beneath his pajamas.“Time for present number one,” he says with a wicked grin.  

Dean’s eyes widen almost comically and he lets out a loud gasp when Cas disappears beneath the covers.

* * *

“Do you really have to go?” Jo asks with a little pout.  She’s sitting on the couch, legs crossed, with a mug of hot chocolate in her hands.  

Cas plops down next to her and nods.He reaches up and fiddles with his lip ring and then glances over at her.“Yes.My dad insists that we have lunch together,” he says with a little shrug.“Also, I think he just wants his car back.”

Jo giggles and shakes her head.“So.I know I don’t…know you very well, but I just wanted to say that…um…I see the way Dean looks at you, and the way you look at him…especially when he’s not looking…”

“This isn’t going to get emotional, is it?” Cas asks dryly. 

Jo hits his shoulder lightly and laughs.“Knock it off.We’re having a moment here.”

“Yes, of course,” Cas says with a little smile.He likes Jo.She’s spunky and full of fire but he knows that deep down, she’s soft and loving, and she cares about Dean more than she wants to admit.He knows Dean feels the same way about her and would do anything to protect her.  

“Hey, did you get your dad a Christmas present?” Dean asks as he walks into the living room.  

“No.Should I have gotten him something? He doesn’t need anything,” Cas says.  

“It’s the thought that counts, Cas,” Dean chides.  

Cas rolls his eyes but gets up off the couch.“See you later, Jo,” he says.  

“Bye, Cas!” 

Together, Dean and Cas walk down the hall.Dean watches as Cas slips on his coat and then his boots.“You really think I should get him something?” Cas asks as he ties his laces.  

Dean folds his arms across his chest and leans against the wall.“Nothing’s gonna be open today, anyway.” 

Cas groans.“Now you’re making me feel like an asshole,” he says with a little chuckle.He stands up and sighs.“I’ll look for something.”

“Now _I_ feel like an asshole,” Dean says sadly.  

Cas leans in and kisses him lightly on the lips.“Shut up.I’ll see if I can find him something.Maybe some of those diabetic stockings from the Pharmacy.”

Dean laughs and kisses Cas again.“I want those.”

Cas cocks an eyebrow.“You want stockings?” he whispers. 

Dean wiggles his eyebrows and presses his lips against Cas’ ear.“Panties too.”

Cas gasps and laughs.“I knew it.I should have gotten you that instead of the Batman comic!” 

“Well, my birthday is next month so…” Dean says with a little shrug. 

“Naughty.”

Dean wrinkles his nose and gestures towards the door.“Get outta here, punk.Drive safe.”

Cas nods.“I’ll see you later.” He squeezes down on Dean’s hand and then smiles before walking over to the door.He opens it and steps out into the brisk, December air and turns around to wave at Dean before leaving.  

Dean remains on the porch until Cas drives off, until the car is nothing but a speck of black in the distance.He can’t seem to shake the niggling feeling that he’s forgetting something, but he shrugs it off and goes back inside.  

* * *

Alastair’s phone rings and his eyes pop open.  

“Fuck do you want?” he drawls into the phone.  

On the other end of line, Gordon chuckles.“Merry Christmas to you too, you asshole.”

Alastair rolls his eyes.  

“Listen.I’ve got a bit of a present for you,” Gordon says. 

Alastair sits up and yawns.“I wonder what it could be,” he says dryly.  

Gordon laughs.“My uncle sent me to the bargain store to pick up a couple things and…guess who’s here, browsing the shelves, all by his lonesome?”

This gets his attention.He straightens up and smiles.“Is it Novak?” he asks, his voice trembling. 

“Bingo.”

Alastair licks his lips and smiles.“Text me the address.”

* * *

Cas sighs wearily as he picks up yet another Christmas themed snow globe.  He has absolutely no idea what to get his father.  He wasn’t lying earlier when he said that the man didn’t need anything.  He wanders over into the little clothing section and spots a little box with three bow ties all lined up in a row.  Now this was something his father could actually use.  Smiling happily, he makes his way over to the register and gets on line to pay for his gift.  On the way over, he grabs a small gift bag and a little packet of tissue paper.  

After he pays, he leaves the store, a little happier than before when he had walked in.Now he has a small gift for his father, it isn’t much, but it’s still something.Inside the car is cold, and so he decides to wait a couple minutes for it to warm up before driving off.He doesn’t notice the sleek black car that rolls past the parking lot as he rubs his hands together.

In a few minutes, he’s on the road again, heading to his house to pick up his father.  

The car comes out of nowhere.  

It slams into the side of his car and he grips onto the steering wheel, attempting to hold on.The other vehicle slams into him again, this time harder than before, and he loses control of the wheel.He spins in a circle, tires squealing on the asphalt, and he screams.  He closes his eyes as the air bag deploys.  There's a heavy weight pressing against him and something warm trickles down the side of his face.  The car skids off the road and slams into a hard surface, making his bones rattle and his teeth shake.  He can smell smoke, and his pulse quickens, but when he tries to move he realizes in horror that he no longer has control of his limbs.  He opens his mouth to scream, to call for help, but no sound comes out.  

The last thing he remembers is a searing pain in his side and then it all goes blank.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay! sorry this chapter took so long! I was working on my dcbb and then I got sidetracked. I hope you enjoyed the chapter. as always, thoughts and comments are always appreciated! :D


	15. The Blue Room

**_One Week Before Christmas_ **

“What is that?”

Cas looks up, a smile on his face. “It’s called _The Blue Room_.”

Dean studies the painting on Castiel’s computer screen.  It’s a somber painting, done in hues of blue and white. 

“You know what’s really cool though?” Cas asks.

“What?” Dean shifts closer to him – their thighs are touching.  He leans in until their shoulders brush. 

“They recently discovered that there’s someone else in the room with her,” Cas says as he points to the figure of the woman.  Her cornflower yellow hair is tied up in a neat bun and she’s bent over, looking more like a thought than an actual person. 

Dean’s eyes rove over the image, searching.  He frowns. “I don’t see anyone.”

Cas clicks on a link and a new window opens up.  It’s another painting, this time, one of a man with a mustache and a bowtie.  His hand is pressed against the side of his face, _thinking_.  “It’s _underneath_ the other painting,” he says excitedly.

Dean smiles.  “Oh, oh wow.  Do they know who he is?”

Cas shakes his head. “Nope.  It’s a mystery.”

Dean hums.  “Weird.”

Cas smiles at him.  “You said it.”

* * *

_Present Day_

John Winchester is the last person Dean expects to see on Christmas Day, but when he opens the door, his father is standing on the porch, hands tucked into his pockets, staring out at the front yard.

“Dad?”

John turns around and he smiles. “Merry Christmas, Deano!”

For a few moments, Dean is unsure of what to do or say so he blinks and then he huffs out a little laugh. “Merry Christmas?” he says, confused.

“I bought you guys some gifts. Where’s your brother?” John asks. He waves a couple gift bags around and smiles. 

“Sammy is over at a friend’s house.”

John frowns.  “But it’s Christmas.  Where’s your mother?”

Dean sighs and shakes his head. He’s already a little irritated because he hasn’t heard from Cas for a couple hours and he’s desperately trying not to be _that_ guy, but he can’t help it. “She got called in to the hospital.  They needed some extra staff for the evening so she dropped Sammy off at his friend’s house on the way,” he explains.  

“Oh,” John says, his voice dropping. “Well, ah, I just wanted to see you all and spend some time with you, in the spirit of the season.”

Dean squints at his father. “In the spirit of the season? Really?” He can feel his anger rising, hot and sharp in his chest, like a snake, ready to bite. “So sending over those divorce papers right before Christmas, was that part of your gift too? You know, in the spirit of the season?” he retorts. 

“What? Divorce papers? I didn’t mail those out yet,” he says incredulously. 

It takes every bit of restraint in Dean’s bones not to slam the door in his father’s face.  “ _Yet_ , you didn’t mail them out _yet_. Wow.  Well we got them.  Mom got them.  And you know what, we don’t need any Christmas presents from you.  You’ve done enough damage already,” he spits angrily.

John groans and scrubs a hand across his face.  “Dean, wait. Please, I told my lawyer to mail them out in January.  He must have sent them out earlier than I asked him to.  I wouldn’t do that to your mother, or to you and Sammy.”

Dean snorts.  “Well you already did.”

“Look, I know you’re upset—”

“Dad, I don’t care. I don’t need your presents or your apologies.  You do what you have to do, okay?”

“Dean, wait.” John pauses and looks down at the ground for a moment before looking back up at his son. His son.  He sees so much of himself in him sometimes, and then, at other times, so little.  “Look, I know I haven’t been the best dad.  I wasn’t around as much as I should have been, and that hurts me. I wish I could fix this mess, I really do, I just....”

Dean looks at his father, at the heavy leather jacket sitting on his shoulders, at the dog tags hanging from his chain around his neck and he feels his heart ache.  As much as he hates his father for what he has done, he still feels sorry for him and there’s no easy way for him to turn that off. 

Reluctantly, he lifts his arm and reaches for the gift bags.  “I’ll put them under the tree.  I can’t promise that they’ll open them.”

John smiles weakly and nods. “Thank you, Dean.”

Dean places the bags on the floor behind him and turns back to his father.  He notices that there are only two bags, so he assumes his father is holding onto his gift for last. 

“Your gift is in the car,” John says, motioning toward the sleek, black Impala parked in the driveway.

With a little sigh, Dean follows his father down the porch steps and to the car. It’s beautiful, as always, and he smiles as he remembers all the time he spent in the front seat next to his father as a kid. 

“Remember when we used to drive out to that lake in the summer?” John asks with a little smile. 

Dean nods and shoves his hands into his pockets.  “Yeah.”

John leans against the car and chuckles.  “And Sammy and your mom in the back, you sitting in the front of course.  We used to have so much fun,” he says sadly.

Dean sighs and looks away. “That was a long time ago, dad,” he says softly.  A slight breeze blows, ruffling his hair and he pushes his glasses up on the bridge of his nose.  Memories are soft and easy to sink back into, especially good ones, but he can’t allow himself to fall into the sticky web of the past.  He needs to keep his father at a distance, he can’t afford to get too close.

“I thought about what to get you for a long time.  I couldn’t figure it out.  You know, with your mom and Sammy, it’s easy but with you…I wanted to give you something special.”

Dean tries not to roll his eyes, but when he turns to his father, he’s holding something out to him, something silver and shiny, something familiar.

It’s the keys to the Impala.

Dean stumbles back, his heart racing wildly. 

“I want you to have her,” John says.

The Impala? That car meant so much to his father.  Why would he give her away? He shakes his head, uncertain.  “Dad I can’t take your car…”

John laughs.  “I’m giving it to you, Dean.  I’ve always…I’ve always planned on passing her on to you.  Ever since I saw you sitting behind the wheel when you were little I knew that eventually she would be yours.”

Dean is speechless. “I don’t know what to say…”

“Say you’ll take care of her. That you’ll treat her right,” John says.  He turns around and rests his hand on the roof of the car. 

There’s a bitter taste in Dean’s mouth and words twist themselves onto his tongue. 

“I made those promises to your mother a long time ago and I failed.  I don’t deserve her and I don’t deserve this car.  You do.”

Dean almost laughs out loud at his father’s confession.  “Am I supposed to feel sorry for you or something?” he blurts out.  For a moment, fear grips his heart as his father turns around, but when he looks at John’s face he is met with sadness and defeat, not the anger he had expected. 

“No,” he says with a little shrug.

Dean looks at his father and then he looks at the car.  Immediately, memories flood his mind, family trips before his father had been deployed, long drives to the lake, singing along to songs at the top of his lungs.  The car had always smelled like his father, like leather and aftershave.  The Impala would always be his father’s, it would always smell like him, and Dean would always have that heavy weight with him, dragging it around, no matter what he did.  The car was beautiful, and he would be honored to call it his own, but he knows in his heart that it would never really be _his_.

“You know what dad, I’m…I would love to have the Impala, but she’s yours.  I have to make my own choices,” he says softly.  “I have to find my own thing to love.”

John stares at his son for a few moments and then he nods sadly.  “I’ll try again when you turn eighteen.  You might change your mind then,” he says with a little wink.

Despite everything, this makes Dean laugh, and his father joins in with him, their voices dancing in the air around them.

* * *

“We’ve got three ambulances on their way, they’ll be here in about five minutes.  We’re looking at three patients, males, car crash,” Dr. Mills barks. 

Mary casts a worried glance over at Ellen and turns her attention back to the trauma surgeon on call, Dr. Jody Mills. She’s sharp, and one of the hospital’s best surgeons. 

“Winchester, I want you on the first ambulance that gets in, Harvelle take the second, Tessa, the third. You ladies know the drill, these are your patients, check their vitals, document _everything_ , and teamwork is key!  Let’s work quickly to get these boys stabilized.  Everyone ready?”

Mary closes her eyes for a moment and takes a deep breath.  Whenever calls like this come in, Sam and Dean always cross her mind, and she sends up a silent prayer of thanks that neither of them have a car. 

“You okay?” Ellen whispers.

Mary opens her eyes and nods. “I just think about the boys at times like this.”

Ellen smiles at her and moves in closer so their hands can brush. 

It’s a simple gesture, yet it comforts her immensely.  She feels some of the tension in her body drain away and she takes another deep breath. In the distance, an ambulance wails and she prepares herself for the worst.  As the wails get closer, Ellen shifts and the energy around them changes, everyone is ready and waiting, mentally preparing to do their best to save lives.  They know all too well that when it comes to car crashes, every second counts.

The first ambulance pulls up and the doors fly open.  A young paramedic climbs out and Dr. Mills immediately goes over to him.  “I’ve got a male, seventeen, unconscious. There’s some glass from the windshield embedded in his right cheek and several cuts and bruises on his face, from the impact of the crash.  There’s some bleeding on his head, indicating a possible scull fracture, doesn’t appear to have any broken bones, but I would recommend X-Rays just to make sure.”

“Alright, Dr. Gaines, this one is yours, you’ll be working with Nurse Winchester.  Get this boy up to Trauma 1, run labs, x-rays, and get him prepped for a CT scan.  Do we have a name?”

“We found ID on him, Castiel Novak.”

Mary stops in her tracks. The name echoes in her head… _Castiel Novak, Castiel Novak_ , it’s so familiar.  It takes her a few seconds to process it in her mind, but when she walks up to the stretcher and she sees the tuft of dark hair it hits her like a ton of bricks to the chest.  It’s _Castiel, Cas,_ her son’s _boyfriend, Cas_.  “Oh my God, Cas?”

Ellen walks over to her and lets out a soft gasp when she sees him in the stretcher.  Immediately she springs into action.  “Mary, sweetie, you can’t work this one. Tessa, go with Dr. Gaines, we’ll handle the other two.”  “Take care of him,” Ellen says to Tessa. 

Tessa responds with a curt nod and immediately follows Dr. Gaines and the rest of his team inside with Castiel on the stretcher. 

“What’s going on?” Dr. Mills asks.

“Castiel is…a friend of her son,” Ellen explains. 

Mary blinks and finally snaps out of her trance.  “Oh my God. No, no I have to go with him. I have to make sure he’s okay!” she says.

Ellen shakes her head and reaches for her arm. “You can’t.  We need you here, Mary.  There are two other boys on their way and they need you.”

“But what about Cas? And what about Dean?” she asks, her voice shaking. 

“Cas is gonna be fine, okay? Dr. Gaines is good at what he does and you know Tessa.  She’ll make sure he’s okay.  Okay?”

Mary nods and reaches up to wipe a tear away with the back of her hand. 

“You okay, Mary?” Dr. Mills asks, her voice soft and less brusque. 

Mary looks up at her and clenches her jaw.  She can hear the other two ambulances approaching and she nods.  “Yeah. I’m fine.”

Dr. Mills reaches out and squeezes her shoulder.  “Good. Alright, the other two are gonna be here any minute.  Ellen, I want you with Dr. Carroll, and Mary, you’re with me.”

Ellen nods but takes a moment to smile at Mary before she walks over to the other doctor. 

Mary looks up into the sky and finds herself praying once more. 

* * *

Dean invites his father in for a cup of coffee and a slice of pie, which John gladly accepts.  He figures that since it’s Christmas, he could afford to cut his father a little bit of slack. 

“We have some apple pie, I think,” Dean says as they walk inside.  He pauses when he realizes that his father has stopped following him.

John is standing in the living room, looking at the Christmas tree.  There are still a few unopened presents under the tree but other than that, the room is filled with boxes and new things.  A couple pieces of gift wrap have remained on the table as well, covered in candy canes and gingerbread men.  “You must think I’m the worst person in the world,” John says softly. 

Dean makes a face.  Why does he always end up being the one to catch John at these vulnerable moments?  “You’re not the worst person in the world.  People do stupid things, that’s life, right?”

John chuckles bitterly. “And I did the stupidest thing of all, right? I gave up this wonderful family…I don’t even deserve a new one.”

Dean observes his father, at the perpetual slump of his shoulders, and he tries for a moment, to put himself in John’s shoes.  “What happened over there?” he asks quietly.

John continues to stare at the Christmas tree, at the ornaments, the lights, and at the star, blazing at the top. “I did things over there I’ll never forget.  Things I’ll never be proud of.”

“Maybe…maybe you should talk to someone, you know, professionally,” Dean says. 

John cocks an eyebrow. “You telling me I need to see a shrink, boy?”

Dean stares at his father, uncertain, until a smile breaks across John’s face. 

“It’s okay, Dean, I’m joking. Kate has actually been telling me that I should…” his voice trails off and he looks away. 

Dean bristles at the mention of his father’s girlfriend.  That’s when he realizes that he doesn’t know much about the woman who his father had fallen for.  “What’s she like?” he asks, curious.

John smiles softly and looks away. “She’s kind, and sweet. She’s a Phlebotomist,” he says with a little shrug. 

Dean snickers.  “You have a thing for people who work at hospitals?” he jokes. 

His father looks at him for a moment before laughing loudly.  “You got that mouth from your mother, that’s for sure,” he says with a shake of his head. 

Dean rolls his eyes. “I’m gonna make some coffee,” he says. 

John nods and follows him into the kitchen. 

* * *

The other two boys who come into the hospital are Gordon Walker, and Alastair Hunt, both of them, Mary discovers, go to school with Dean and Castiel.  Out of the three of them, Gordon is the least hurt, escaping with only a few broken ribs and some bruises.  Alastair is already in surgery, to remove glass from his windshield that had embedded themselves in his eyes, and Castiel is frustratingly unconscious.

“How’s he doing?” Mary asks Tessa.

Tessa sighs and shakes her head. “Dr. Gaines is hopeful. He hasn’t woken up yet but, there doesn’t seem to be much physical damage.  His arm is broken, it’ll be in a cast for a while.”

Mary takes a deep breath and covers her mouth with her hand.  “Oh my God. That’s my son’s boyfriend,” she whispers. 

Tessa’s eyes widen and she gasps. “Oh Mary, have you told Dean?”

Mary shakes her head. “I haven’t called him yet. I don’t know what to say to him. Castiel is such a sweet boy.”

Tessa reaches out and squeezes Mary’s arm reassuringly.  “You should tell him.  He would want to be here…” she says gently. 

The double doors burst open and a short, angry looking man enters the room.  He looks disheveled, and his eyes are bloodshot. He makes a beeline for Mary and Tessa, wringing his hands anxiously. 

“I’m looking for my son, Castiel. I received a call…”

“Hi, Mr. Novak? I’m Tessa, the nurse working with your son and Dr. Gaines—”

“Is he alright? My son, is he—”

“Mr. Novak, my name is Mary Winchester, I’m—”

“I don’t care who you are. I just want to know if my son is alright.”

“He’s alive.  Right now, his arm is broken, and he’s unconscious. He’s getting prepped for a CT scan,” Tessa explains. 

“May I see him?”

“I can take you in for a moment before he goes in, please come with me,” Tessa says.  She shoots a sympathetic glance over at Mary before leaving.   

“Thank you,” the man mumbles. He scrubs a hand across his face before following Tessa out of the waiting room. 

Mary watches them, her heart in her throat. 

Ellen comes over, her expression grim. “You called Dean yet?” she asks.

Mary shakes her head. “No. I’m about to do that right now but, Castiel’s father just came in.  I wanted to talk to him but he’s…”

“He’s going through a difficult time right now, sweetie.  And so are you. Take a minute, focus, and call Dean, okay.  He’s gonna need someone to lean on and that’s gonna be you,” Ellen says with a warm smile.

Mary takes a deep breath and nods. “You’re right. I shouldn’t be this frazzled.”

“You’re allowed to be. That’s okay,” Ellen says.

Mary remains silent for a few moments and then she smiles at Ellen.  “I’m gonna call Dean,” she says. 

“I’ll be here if you need anything,” Ellen says, returning the smile. 

With a heavy heart, Mary walks down the hall toward the nurse’s station.  She doesn’t know what she’s going to say or how she’s going to say it, but she knows what she has to do.  If she were in Dean’s shoes, she would want to know.  Gingerly, she sinks down in one of the chairs behind the counter and she looks at the phone.  It takes her a few minutes to compose herself, but when she picks up the phone and dials Dean’s number, she knows she’s ready to catch him when he falls. 

* * *

“So, no girlfriend?” John asks as he shovels some more pie into his mouth.

Dean cringes and quickly shakes his head.  A conversation about his sexuality with his father is not on the menu for this Christmas. “Nope.”

“Aw, not even a…little crush?” John prods. 

Dean presses his lips together in a thin line and shakes his head again.  “Like I said before: nope.”

John squints at him suspiciously. “I don’t know if I believe that.”

Dean lowers his head and pokes at his slice of pie while rolling his eyes. 

“What about your mom? She got anyone special in her life?”

This makes Dean pause. There’s no way he’s going to tell his father about Mary and Ellen.  That’s something his mom needs to do on her own, but that doesn’t mean he can’t make his father a _little_ curious.  “I dunno. She’s been pretty happy these days, so, who knows,” he says with a dainty little shrug. 

John purses his lips but doesn’t respond.

Dean snickers below his breath but stops when he realizes that his phone is vibrating in his pocket. When he pulls it out, he sees that it’s the number for the nurse’s station at the hospital. 

“Mom?”

“Hey, sweetie,” Mary says, her voice sounding strained. 

“Everything okay?” Dean asks quickly. His heart is racing in his chest and he doesn’t know why. 

“Dean…honey, I don’t want you to panic,” Mary begins.

“That’s like the worst thing you could say, mom! Is it Sammy?  Is he okay?” Dean asks, his mind immediately jumping to his little brother. He hears his mother’s soft sigh on the other end of the line and his heart plummets into his stomach. 

“Dean, what’s going on?” John asks.

“No, Dean, it’s not Sam, he’s fine. It’s…” her voice trails off and the line goes silent.

Suddenly Dean knows, it hits him in his gut and for a moment he can’t breathe.   

Cas _._ _It’s Cas._

Everything clicks into place, Cas not texting him back or answering his call, that niggling feeling he had when Cas had pulled off earlier.  He feels sick and he gets up, his knees wobbly. 

“Dean,” his father says.

Dean shoots a glance at his father and then he looks away.  “What happened to Cas, mom? Is he okay?” he asks. 

“He was in a car accident, with two other boys from your school, Gordon and…I think the other one was Alastair?”

Dean’s blood runs cold. The fact that both Gordon and Alastair are involved makes him believe that this was most definitely _not_ an accident. “Is he…”

“He’s alive.  His dad just got here a little while ago. You should be here.”

Dean nods even though his mother can’t see him.  “Yeah, yeah I’m on my way.” He hangs up the phone, his hands shaking. 

“Dean, what is it? Is your brother okay?” John asks. 

Dean blinks and then he nods. “He’s fine, dad. It’s not Sam, it’s…” he stops and looks up at his father.  He could say that Cas is his friend, he could say that Cas is his best friend, but he thinks of the things that they’ve both been through in the short period of time that they’ve spent together and he realizes that by telling his father that Cas is ‘just a friend’, he would be putting a blanket on all of those things. “It’s my boyfriend, dad. He was in a car accident.” Dean is not entirely sure if coming out to his dad at this moment in time is a good idea, but he’s too busy worrying about Cas to care. 

“Your what?” John sputters.

Dean clenches his jaw and slips his phone into his pocket.  “My _boyfriend_ , dad. The guy I’m in love with,” he snarls.  He walks past his father out of the kitchen and into the living room. 

“Dean, where are you going?” John thunders. 

“To the hospital!” he yells as he runs up the stairs to his room.  He begins to search around for his things, his wallet, his phone charger, a change of clothes.  He stuffs it all into his backpack along with a bottle of water that had been sitting on his dresser. His mind is going at a million miles per minute.  He doesn’t even know how he’s going to get to the hospital.  He could bike there, or maybe take a cab.  He opens his top drawer and sticks his hand all the way in the back where he keeps his emergency cash hidden.  He pulls out a wad of bills, he must have at least two hundred dollars in there.  He takes about half of it and shoves it into his pocket before hiding the rest in his drawer.  Before leaving his room, he grabs Cas’ sketchbook and a couple of his pencils that he had left on his bed and stuffs them into his bag.   

When he skates out of his room and down the steps, he realizes that his father is standing at the foot of the stairs, arms crossed over his chest. 

“Dad, I don’t have time for this,” he says. 

“How are you getting to the hospital?” John asks gruffly. 

Dean makes a face.  “I dunno.  I might take a cab or something,” he says with a shrug. 

John observes his son, he takes in the worried look on his face, at the anger simmering in his green eyes and he sighs.  “I’ll drive you there. Come on, let’s go,” he says.

“What?”

John looks down and sighs. “It’s the least I could do, Dean. Your…friend needs you,” he says softly. 

Dean chews on his bottom lip and then he walks down the last few steps.  “You don’t have to do this, dad,” he says, looking up at his father defiantly. 

“Yes I do, I’m your father, now come on, let’s go, and don’t make me have to tell you again,” he says.

Dean bristles at his father’s command, but he dutifully follows him out of the living room and into the hall. He doesn’t have time to be mad at him, or wonder what the hell this means, all he can focus on now is Cas, and getting to the hospital as quickly as he can.

He swallows thickly against the knot that has formed in his throat and ties his shoe laces with shaking hands.

He’s never been so scared.

* * *

When Dean arrives at the hospital, his mother is waiting for him outside, her arms folded across her chest.

“Mom!” Dean dashes from the car and runs into his mother’s arms. 

“It’s okay, baby, it’s okay. He’s okay,” Mary soothes. She hugs him tightly and kisses the top of his head. 

“Is he really okay?” Dean asks pulling back.  There are tears brimming in his eyes and he does his best to keep them from falling.

Mary nods and cups his cheek with her hand.  “He broke his arm, and they discovered a small subdural hematoma in the CT scan,” she says. “But, according to Dr. Mills, he should be okay.  He just needs to stay put and heal.” 

Dean nods but he still feels anxious. He knows it won’t go away until he can see Cas with his own two eyes.  “Can I see him?”

Mary frowns.  “His father is here, so you’d need to get the okay from him since you’re not immediate family.”

“What about the other two?” Dean asks, tightlipped. 

“Gordon broke a few ribs…the other one though…” her voice trails off. 

Dean draws a shaky breath as he waits to hear what happened to Alastair. 

“Some of the glass from the windshield went into his eyes…he’s still in surgery…” her voice trails off and she reaches out to squeeze Dean’s shoulder.  “I’m sorry, Dean, is he a friend?” she asks.

Dean chuckles bitterly and shakes his head.  “No, no he’s not. I’m gonna go in and see if I can see Cas.  Where is he?”

“They transferred him to a room on the 4th floor…is that…your father?”

Dean glances behind him and sees his father walking toward them.  “Um, yeah, he gave me a ride to the hospital.  I’m gonna go, mom,” Dean says. 

“Okay, I’ll be up there in a bit,” she says.  She watches as Dean jogs inside and then she turns her attention back to John who is a couple feet away from her. 

“John,” she says softly.

John smiles at her and nods at the hospital.  “His…friend alright?”

Mary nods.  “Yeah, I think he’ll be okay.”

John scuffs the ground with the tip of his boot and sighs.  “He said…he said he's his boyfriend.”

Mary nods again.  “He is.  He’s a very nice boy.”

“So my son is…”

“In a relationship. They grow up so fast, don’t they?” Mary quips. 

“Mary, I—”

“What, John?” she snaps.

John shrugs and shoves his hands into his pockets.  “Merry Christmas,” he says. 

Mary’s expression softens and she folds her arms over her chest once more.  “Merry Christmas, John.” 

She turns around and goes back inside.

* * *

It doesn’t take Dean a long time to find Castiel’s father.  He’s at the nurse’s station on the 4th floor filling out paperwork.

“Dean, is it?” he says without looking up. 

“Is he okay, Mr. Novak?” Dean asks anxiously. 

Castiel’s father stops writing and turns to him.  He looks tired and there are dark circles under his eyes.  “He’s asleep.  The doctors say he should recover just fine.” 

“Can I see him?” Dean asks, his voice small. 

Crowley squints at him and then sighs. “Of course you can. You two are dating, aren’t you?”

Dean nods.  “Yeah, we are.”

“Alright.  Excuse me, nurse, I’d like to place this young man on the approved visitor list for my son, Castiel Novak.”

Dean watches as the nurse searches for the appropriate paperwork and he frowns.  “Can I go in, in the meantime?” he asks. 

The nurse nods.  “It’s fine, he’s in 401, go on.”

Butterflies brush against his insides as he walks down the hall.  He turns the corner and sees room 401 on his right.  The door is open and he stops in the doorway, his heart in his throat.  It’s a small, private room with light blue walls.  There’s a small window on the opposite wall and lying on the bed in the middle of the room is Cas.   

He’s hooked up to various machines, some of them blinking, beeping, and hissing softly.  His left arm is in a cast, and his face is covered in little scrapes.  There’s a big bruise blooming on his right cheek, and a bandage on his forehead.

Not wanting to wake him, Dean pads into the room quietly.  He removes his backpack and places it on the floor, against the wall, and he sits down in the chair next to Cas’ bed.  The tears he had been holding in finally begin to cascade down his cheeks, and as he looks at Cas’ battered face, he can’t help but feel responsible. If he had never come into Cas’ life, this would have never happened to him, he knows that for a fact.

“I’m so sorry, Cas,” he mumbles through his tears.  He removes his glasses and wipes his eyes with the back of his hand.  It all comes tumbling down, the walls he had built up to protect his heart, and he feels everything so intensely, he has to cover his mouth with his hand to muffle his sobs.  It takes him a few minutes to calm down, and soon, he’s sniffling, eyes swollen and heavy.  “I don’t know if you can hear me, Cas, but, it’s me, it’s Dean.  I’m here.” He slowly inches forward and reaches for Cas’ hand. He rubs it lightly, praying for him to open his eyes.  “They took your piercings out,” Dean says with a rueful smile.  “You look naked.  And I’m talking to myself.” Dean curls his fingers around Cas’ hand and squeezes down on his fingers.  He stops and waits but nothing happens.  He focuses on Cas’ face, on the purple bruises and the little cuts and scrapes.  He lets go of Cas’ hand and reaches up to gently run his fingers through Cas’ hair.

“ _Something in the way, he moves, attracts me like, no other lover. Something in the way he woos me, don’t want to leave him now, you know I believe and how,_ ” Dean sings softly.

There’s a flicker of something across Castiel’s face and slowly, his eyes blink open.  “Dad?” he mumbles. 

Dean freezes and stops singing. “No, it’s me, Cas, it’s Dean,” he says eagerly.  He watches as Cas blinks several times before focusing on Dean. 

“Dad?” Cas says again, in a daze.

“It’s Dean, Cas,” Dean says again.

Cas blinks again and then frowns. “Dean…who…who are you?” he rasps out.  

Fear grips Dean’s heart and he leans back into the chair.  Cas doesn’t…remember him?  He knows that memory loss and confusion are common after car accidents, but he didn’t expect it to be so…jarring.  To think that Cas doesn’t remember him, that he doesn’t remember their kisses, or the time they spent snuggled up in bed together, it makes his heart hurt and more tears spill down his cheeks.  “You really don’t remember me?” he asks softly.

Castiel stares at him with a blank expression for a few beats and then the corner of his lips quirk up into the shadow of a smile.  “I’m just…fucking with you, of course I remember you, Dean,” he says with a little cough. 

Dean squints at him and then he makes a face.  “You _asshole_!”

Castiel laughs softly and coughs again. “Hey there, Mona Lisa,” he mumbles. 

Dean laughs through his tears and shakes his head.  “How could you do that to me?” he gripes. 

“Too good to pass up, can you get me some water?” he asks. 

Dean nods and quickly hops out of the chair. 

“Dean, wait,” Cas says.

Dean stops and looks at him. “You okay?”

Cas nods.  “Yeah, I…can you kiss me?” he asks in a small voice.

Dean pushes his glasses up on the bridge of his nose and smiles.  “Of course,” he says.  He perches on the edge of the bed and reaches over to gently caress Cas’ face.  “I love you so much, Cas,” he mumbles.

Cas smiles and then he grimaces. “It hurts to smile,” he mumbles.

Slowly, Dean leans in and brushes his lips against Cas’.  He’s scared, and doesn’t want to hurt him, so he makes it light, more of a whisper than anything else.  He smiles against Cas’ mouth and sighs.

“Why are you crying so much,” Cas huffs out when Dean pulls back. 

Dean wipes his eyes and draws in a shaky breath.  “Because I…” his voice trails off and he looks at Cas again, at the cuts and the bruises, at the cast on his arm and all the machines around him.  “Because I thought I lost you,” he says softly.

Cas blinks and a tear runs down his cheek.  “I was so scared, Dean,” he says, his voice shaking.  “So scared…”

Dean leans in and awkwardly wraps his arm around Cas’ shoulder.  He holds him as best as he can, allowing him to sob into his shirt. “It’s okay, Cas. I’m here,” he murmurs. With his other hand, he reaches up to thread his fingers through Cas’ hair.  He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. 

He doesn’t know where they’re going or what will happen next, but for now, Cas is safe in his arms and that’s all that matters. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp! Well, for starters, this is not the last chapter! I had debated at ending the fic on chapter 15 but, I don't know. I think there are still a few things that need to be tied up with these two, so ending it here wouldn't have been very satisfying for me. 
> 
> On another note, sorry this took so long, I've been working on other things and I was on vacation for a while. Also, this chapter was just a lot to write in general. It feels like nothing much has happened but it was easily almost 6000 words, not sure how that happened. 
> 
> As always, thoughts and comments are appreciated, and if you find any errors, they are all my own, and my bad. haha. I hope you enjoyed the chapter!


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